“Hello, young fella,” the seventy-something golfer yelled to me, greeting Brandy and me as we finished our “business trip” walking around Lake Osiris. Brandy is my twelve-year-old (84 “dog years,” supposedly) Golden Retriever, and her business is what needs to be done after being in the house overnight. My business, at 68, is cardio-vascular and psychological --- it was a beautiful October 16th in southern New York State.
“It’s going to be a great day,” I replied, basking in the early sunshine.
“Every day is a great day,” he said.
“I know what you mean.”
You must admire his spirit. At his age, at mine for that matter, nothing works quite as well as it once did. We have less time left, how much left is unknown. Still valuable, in shorter supply, time is precious. So are naps. So is golf or dog-walking or ….
I returned, walked into the bedroom of my wife, Tina Su Cooper, and told her of this brief interaction. Tina has been my true love for forty-eight years, my beloved wife for twenty-seven years, bedridden for sixteen years, quadriplegic and ventilator dependent for the past seven years, a cheerful heroine to all who know her.
“Every day IS a great day,” she agreed.
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