I start most days with "Morning Joe" at 6 in the morning. Bordering on the ridiculous, I switch channels during commercials between 6:30 and 7 to watch "Family Affair," a saccharin sitcom from the late 60's.
I watch it for the life lessons it provides, but also because "Mr. French," a Gentleman's Gentleman in the show, played by Sebastian Cabot, reminds me of a boyhood friend.
And so it goes that most early mornings, after connecting a few dots,, are filled with fond memories of Eddie D., Donald, Bartley, Raymond, Johno - a true time of innocence in Jackson Heights N.Y.
I suppose our parents may have been concerned about bomb shelters, but us kids, at ages 6 to 10, were merely concerned the next punch ball game.
I am further contented by a daily walk/jog on the beach, accompanied by my bride and my latest fad in music. (Currently The Avett Brothers and The National.)
Upon departing the beach though, my contentment drifts to consternation, as I pound and kick sand off of my sneakers and onto parking lot.
Most people bring sand away with them when they depart the beach.
Nobody brings sand to the beach. My beach.
Certainly not in my lifetime, but isn't possible that eventually there will be no sand on the beach?
That would be a shame.
And so, I implore you to leave as much sand at the beach as possible, and perhaps occasionally bring some; reasonably priced at Home Depot.
More dot connecting exercises lead me to ruminate not only on the mortality of my beach, but of myself as well. Indeed, of all humanity.
Again, not in my lifetime, but if humanity endures, with every birth leading to death, theoretically, won't all of the land on earth be required for cemeteries?
I don't think it's too soon to start preparing for the inevitable. Cremation is an obvious solution, but I know it's not acceptable to those who suspect body parts will be required in the afterlife.
Burial at sea is a feasible, but unwelcome alternative for those squeamish about becoming fish food.
How about vertical graves? Not a permanent solution, but one that significantly delays the inevitable.
I remain undecided regarding the next presidential election, but I will be swayed by the candidates stance on this "hot button." I suspect none will even broach the subject.
Is it me? What?
Chill.
Monday morning, with Mr. French acting as my enabler, I will once again transport to the age of my youthful exuberance, but really, who's kidding whom?
If my biggest fears and trepidations flail around such topics as sand and cemeteries, it remains clear that, as I've said so many times before, in so many ways......the best of times is now.
