Sarah’s comment about the economy “going Medieval” struck a chord. It’s grim, I know it’s grim. The fear, denial, and rage are palpable. The rumors about the Bush family’s new 100,000-acre ranch and compound in Paraguay, with its oil and water reserves, are probably just rumors, but they tell you how people are feeling now. I wrote a long post about the topic here, and decided to erase it. Why drag everyone down? So I wrote something else, and it seems dark as well, but trust me, better than what I wrote at first.
I want to visit a few countries in Europe. Really visit them, for months, so I can steep myself in them. Will our great-grandchildren ever experience airline flight? Maybe not, but I can, and before it’s gone, I want to sit in the sun at a café in Siena or San Gimignano and sip real coffee. I want to see the paintings again before they’re burned for fuel, and the sculptures that will be destroyed by people who can find no one else to blame, to hear the music that before I’m gone will be heard LIVE, if at all. To enjoy all the conversations, the small kindnesses, the laughs that make us glad we’re alive. To do service in some way so that I feel my life has had meaning. Maybe I’ll figure out what I can do or say to help my children, but probably not — they’re of this time and will probably know better than I what to do. And I want to have some moments when I forget what’s coming, brilliant moments of simple pleasure.
Do you suppose that this is just the way people feel and what they think when they can see the end of life in the distance, and would prefer not to go alone? That I’m not seeing the future of everything, just the future of me? If so, please disregard my crone’s ravings.