You'll have to listen closely today, I have a sore throat and can't talk very loud. My grandchildren bring me little microscopic bugs and leave them around my house. I don't particularly like the bugs, but they seem to like me. Thanks to all of you who commented on the SWF post, many of you had very thoughtful comments. If you haven't read the comments on that post you might want to. I think almost everyone stayed long enough to read the poem. I know an old cranky man who thinks very little of anyone other than himself. He wears those one size fits all jump suits. His Sunday jump suit is a hounds tooth plaid with fewer paint smears than his work-a-day selection. He has had the suits for as long as I can remember, and if I am not mistaken, he has not replaced any of the three during that time. He likes to sit in his well worn recliner and hike one leg up over the armrest. All three suits are missing the crotch and to my recollection he doesn't wear underwear. When I visit this person, I generally think to myself, I hope I never become what he is. But, like the words in the second stanza of the John Denver song, Some days are diamonds - Some days are stone, "...the face that I see in the mirror, more and more is a stranger to me. More and more I can see there's a danger of becoming what I never thought I'd be", I realize the possibility exists. I have been careful not to buy any of those jump suits yet. As we age we think more of what life will be like for us as the years go by and I hope we try to think of how we can make others lives more pleasant as they interact with us.
Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away. - Antoine de Saint-Exupery