Damien at the Speed of Life

It’s a bit overcast and it’s July so it’s muggy. Since I was inside all day, this trip down the road is like a in and out and finally in again perfect focus at the beginning of a movie. 100 million ideas fly through my mind, and escape. I reach for a pen in the glove box to write one down . . . even just ONE . . . but there’s no pen. So, I kick back and enjoy the ride. I think about my town on the way to McDonald’s. The folks who have lived here for decades and those like myself who just got here in the past one. I think about Roy Rogers who had his museum here . . . lived and died . . . and soon, the trucks came and took the museum away (even the stuffed horse, “Trigger”). Lifespan . . . think about that word. What is yours? Mine? How much longer will electrical impulses course through our bodies? Does anybody know? Sitting in the doctor’s office the other day reading a magazine on water skiing (hard to believe an entire magazine could be dedicated to water skiing, but this one was) when I overheard conversations by an old couple talking about bridge implants, trouble chewing, dialysis, heart disease, friends who have died . . . it was etherizing. Then, out of the fog,  they called my name. I found out I’m pretty healthy for 38. I need to exercise more.  I have to go on a medication for blood pressure, but other than that . . . I am blessed with health, and relative youth. It’s amazing how much time has passed by. It seems like yesterday I was 8 years old going to see Star Wars (before they had widescreens!). I turn into the McDonald’s drive through, stick my neck out to converse with the cone shaped black speaker.  I read off the list of items my wife wrote for me (so I wouldn’t forget) on the back of a Wachovia Investments junk mail envelope that we’ll never open. The meat, bread, and potatoes fill my car with a salty, delicious fast food aroma. I can’t wait to get home and pass out the prizes at the dinner table. I’m no Roy Rogers, and I don’t have a horse. But I know one day the moving trucks will come for my things here at the Riley museum. I better look around once in a while and enjoy it all while it’s here.