Reminiscing now from this lofty vantage point,
I’ve been blessed with a first rate life, with only a few regrets. As a young
man life afforded me all variety of opportunities. Those that I pursued I
occasionally regretted the next day. The rest I regret now.
During the golden days of youth I tended to
envision time as a vast, unlimited resource. Time it seemed was an
inexhaustible sea. Now in the autumn of
my life each hour is increasingly precious, and I thirst for each minute as it
drips away from an alarmingly finite pool.
Some days my old brain burns bright as pitch
& pine knots, and other days it lays there quiet like and smolders. When it
comes to my memory, I much prefer my memory of my memory. My memory today is
not like I remember.
Looking back, our lives whiz by before we know
what hit us. We spend our first thirty
years thinking about our future, the second thirty thinking about our past, and
our last year’s wondering what the hell we were thinking.
The older I get, the more adamant I become in
my belief that we should start out old and grow younger every year. On each
successive anniversary of our birth, we could assemble all our friends and
family for a truly heartfelt celebration, and joyously remove one candle from
our cake. What could be better than spending our twilight years with the carefree
hearts of children, when life seemed simple, summer was perennial, and
childlike faith assured tomorrows joys?
“Glad
Days Long Ago” is a collection of short stories and reminiscences. It’s an
assortment of unrelated windows into my life and time; a compilation of just
over 40 pieces I’ve written over a thirty year period. As a result, the
compositions are written in variety of styles. Beyond the fact that they are
nostalgic windows into the past, my past and the distant past, they are
unrelated. The books only flow is the fact that it reflects my life and my
interests, from my childhood to the present. The book has no plot, and no
villain, other than time itself, and times exasperating inclination to run
out. SC
