Saturday, January 23, 2016


Recently I have been thinking back to a book I remember reading in my youth called Where Did You Go? Out. What Did You Do? Nothing by Robert Paul Smith.  The key remembrance was the word, nothing.  Back then that best described what we were about – nothing, playing kick the can on the road with a tomato soup can from the garbage, hunting night crawlers on the front line at night with a flash light, burning down a barn, unintentionally, just by accident, honest. Doing 'nothin' was what growing up was all about.
     And that is what I find myself about on the eve of my 81st birthday -  nothing.  Only now it feels like a burden, something to be fought against rather than something to revel in.  How I long to return to that youthful wisdom that grasped that doing nothing was the joie du jour and not a curse of growing old.
        And then I sat down and listed the things I had done the day before.  Breakfast and chat with friend, finished reading a novel, emailed a friend in the UK, and cooked dinner for Marilyn and myself. And wasted an hour watching Jeopardy  and Charle Rose.  Not a bad amount of nothing,  I had to admit. And you?

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