Yes, yes, I know I promised that this week there would be a review of Margarita Engle’s “Morningstar Horse.” I have two valid excuses for not following through with that promise.
Excuse Number One:
I am in the process of re-reading Morningstar Horse. I am reading slowly so as to savor the delicious imagery.
Excuse Number Two: IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!
Sixty Six years ago, at 4:05 in the afternoon, I entered this world. My life in the previous world had just gotten too messy. I escaped just in time.
Sixty Six. My, what a long time. I’ve been around the block a couple of times and I’ve learned a few things, but I haven’t learned it all. I want to learn it all!
I’m ready to retire, but the time isn’t right yet.
I’ve heard it said that a lot of people retire, finally – and then die. Maybe because they were so defined by their jobs that when they don’t have a job anymore they just give up.
I am not defined by my job. I love my job and I will really miss the kids and the other teachers, but working takes up too much of my time that I would like to be spending on other things, like writing and painting and traveling and goofing off. I can’t die right after I retire because I have so much more to do!
Is it a little maudlin to be talking about dying on my birthday? I suppose so. But I’ve always thought that dying is just another part of life. We all gotta do it some time.
Just not right now.
If I had time…
If I had money…
If I had a 1966 Ford Mustang…
I know what I would do for my sixty sixth year…
I would hit the road – get my kicks on Route 66!
Sixty six years old on Route 66, driving a ’66 Ford Mustang.
Wouldn’t that be a trip?
(Although, if the truth be told, I prefer a 1957 Chevy Bel Air.)