Everyone who was 50 when I was 20 is definitely dead.

Everyone who was 60 when I was 50 is probably dead.

50% of my college roommates, (as of last Saturday when Walter wandered away, unexpectedly), are dead.

I’ve been to the funerals of some of my former students.

Some of my former students are grandparents!!

I am in my “77th year”, as my wife who is in her “80th” likes to cheerfully remind me

whenever my mind thinks I am spryer than my body knows I’m not.

And I had another first line of another poem in my mind when I left the pool two hours ago

after my “55 minutes of perpetual motion work out,

but as troublesome as it is to my ego,

I forgot it while driving home listening to PBS beg for money

they thought was a sure thing before our beloved congress declared it wasn’t!

So, in a weird, comforting way, it’s it’s nice to have something sure in life.

Even if it is the end of it.