RIP, Old Friend

I learned last night that my best friend of over fifty years died of undisclosed causes sometime Saturday night or Sunday and his body was found in another county than where he lived. The details are very murky so far, but I’m hoping to learn more over time.

He had retired very recently and was looking forward to traveling the world to see new sights, meet new people, play poker, at which he was quite proficient, and live the good life he had worked so long and so hard to be able to enjoy and surely would have.

He and I had so many fun times together going all the way back to the late 60’s. We met in a junior bowling league, played basketball, got drunk for the first time, attended many great Bay Area concerts, saw scores of movies, especially of the martial arts variety, and hung out a lot. Over the years, our interests and activities increasingly diverged and we’d had very little contact recently, but we were still and would have always been there for each other if needed.

I don’t know yet what happened to him and am still getting over the shock of his sudden and very unexpected death, but I’ll miss him.

Rest In Peace, old friend.

As My Birthday Approaches

I'll soon be having another milestone birthday, and I'm worried. Scared actually. I didn't think I'd live this long, but now that I have, I'm concerned about the future. I have good reason to be. I'm concerned about my health. I'm concerned about my finances. I'm concerned about my marriage. You name it, I'm concerned about it.

I've lived a very unconventional life. A wasted life. A life the world won't miss when it's over and would have been better off without. No wonder I never attend my high school reunions.

I don't feel depressed as I say these things. Sad, but not depressed. I know the difference.

Yet, I'm also hopeful there's a way for me to do more with the time I have left, no matter the circumstances, than I have yet. A way to accomplish something, with my few and modest gifts, that I haven't yet. I want to, I need to.

The clock is ticking.

A Dearly Departed Rat

I just found a dead rat lying in my backyard. I don't know how long it had been there or what killed it. There are many cats in my neighborhood. Yet, the rat didn't show clear signs of trauma. But then I didn't look too closely. I've always been squeamish about handling animal corpses or scrutinizing their posthumous decomposition.

Yet, I've also felt a lifelong love for animals, even rats. Maybe I wouldn't love rats if my house were infested with them or their fleas were causing a plague epidemic. But I don't think it is, and there's no plague in my neck of the woods, even though rats undoubtedly roam my suburban neighborhood, drawn here by accessible food and shelter.

For many people, the only good rat may well be a dead rat. But the way I see it, rats are relatively intelligent, sentient beings who probably feel emotions not so unlike what we feel and who, like us, want to be happy or at least free from suffering, and to go on living. I understand that rats, at least the specially bred variety, can even make good pets. I regard them as my distant cousins and, in more "spiritual" terms, manifestations of the Divine.

So, when I see a dead rat lying in my backyard, I feel tender sadness for it and hope it didn't suffer much when it died and that if there's a heaven for rats, it is there, and, if there is no rat heaven, it resides in painless oblivion.

May all us humans be so fortunate when we die.