On being eighty-two
![[an old ex-rider]](self-picture.jpeg)
My first thought is that it means I've had another birthday. Which I did. I've been around the sun 82 times now. And the sun has been around me 29,950.5 times. You can tell which of us is busier.
What have I done with those 82 years? Been to Brasil, gone to first grade in Baton Rouge, had an enormous paper route and worked it on my bicycle, had girlfriends, two wives, and a special love, worked in the unmanned exploration of space, built computer programs for an insurance company, maintained a database, maintained a system of three old computers, ridden various Hondas and a Yamaha, ridden three Harleys, written scads of poems and stories, and tried to organize my thoughts.
Sometimes they seem helter-skelter, jumping off in many directions, never landing long enough to settle and claim, "Yes! This is where I am and who I am."
Being eighty-two is being more or less at ease with my frenetic thoughts, with living in a Senior Living Facility, with having two good friends, one of whom is my brother, and the other is a very special and splendid woman.
Being eighty-two is curious.
Connections