Intuition has led me to always assume that I would live to be at least 100. I've received no contradictory information to believe this isn't true.
I remember, some time in the late 80's, I began to think of this boy's life span in the context of 100 years, divided into 25 year semesters. The first 25 years, a person is a freshman. The second 25, a sophomore. The third 25, a junior. The fourth span of 25, senior.
For most of my first two semesters, I've enjoyed attending class. Thankfully, I've had excellent instructors. Early on, I knew what my purpose was (When I was eleven, I found an owner's manual and operating instructions for myself tucked into a box of sewing patterns in my Mom's closet. This was useful, as it helped me identify my life's point, specs, and features particular to my make and model.) I've lost traction only a few times and managed to keep painting. The rest of the time I've spent cooking.
Last week, Brother Matt and I spent a few hours viewing a private art collection, housed on the fifth floor of the Colorado Building, downtown.
One of the pieces was called 100, by Ramirez Jonas. It was a series of photographed portraits of people, ages zero to 99 years, consecutively. Looking at these faces, I see the beginning is the end.
And in the end, isn't it always the same question? And always the same answer? The ball is round. The game lasts 90 minutes. That's a fact. Everything else is pure theory.
Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,
Dave
If you can identify where the italicized quote came from, I'll send you a candy bar of my choice. Sharon, I'm afraid due to your vast intellect, you're ineligible for this offer.
