“Do you ever think about dying?” asked Barbie. I do. Do you? I'm on the eve of my 78th, luckily still alive. I think about dying, but not in a morose way. I stumbled into death at age 18 when I worked for a funeral home that also ran the community’s ambulance service. We’d take the big “S” off the side of the Oldsmobile hearse, put the bubble light on top, and clamp in the stretcher. Sometimes we’d deal with accidental or old age death;…
I was born only two hours before the atomic bomb annihilated Hiroshima, so don’t blame me for it. You and I are born into hate-ridden tragedies usurping hopeful visions of kindness, justice, and mutual happiness. Perhaps you agree. Nor should I (or you) be blamed for Korea, Vietnam, Granada, Panama, or the wars on Central America, or Iraq, or Afghanistan, or the needless new ones brewing on Venezuela and Iran. Please don’t blame me for my country’s growing alliances with murderous dictators and dangerous war-mongers…