seventy first birthday
fiction
edward w pritchard
About ten years ago a noted local heart surgeon told my family gathered in my room at the hospital after a heart procedure and a heart attack that I probably wouldn't make it till morning. Somehow I have survived nearly ten years and I credit my still being alive along with various pills daily to listening to blues music, three cans a night of beer and a proper outlook on the world., and walking around the world more than three times on the canal paths in the local area where I live.
Bessie Smith, Elmore James and Snooks Eaglin are my only friends anymore. Several times a week I converse with them as I listen to their philosophical thoughts expressed through music.
As you get older there is less to fret about. As an example in my case I don't care if I have a 4,000 square house properly remodeled and filled with more expensive furniture than I can sit on.
Most days I hope for a clear night to watch the evening sky, planets and stars as I walk and walk along the lake walking and walking to keep myself alive. That's about it really. Excuse me it's time for me to go back to reading a few high brow books on various subjects, joyfully interacting with the grandchildren, and spending many hours at the gym trying to extend my time as a sentient being.
Someone said " Life has no meaning , only the beauty of it's intricate design".
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