Still Gonna Die...
Probably 30 or more years ago, when I still lived in Deland, Florida, I was a regular at the Wednesday farmers’ market at the Volusia County fairgrounds. This was half actual farmers marketing their produce, and half flea market. One week, there was a vendor I hadn’t seen before. He was selling what I assumed were stolen CDs, and one of them caught my eye, because it was by Bob Gibson - who I knew as Joan Baez’ singing partner in “The Virgin Mary Had a One Son” from the Newport Folk Festival: https://duckduckgo.com/?t=ffab&q=bob%20gibson%20and%20joan%20baez%20virgin%20mary&iax=videos&ia=videos&iai=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DZiA30lhcd_8
The CD cover included a photo of Bob Gibson and Shel Silverstein, who I knew only as the author/illustrator of children’s books, not a songwriter. I bought a copy, and still have it. Dr. Hook and The Medicine Show recorded bunches of Shel’s songs, and they were fine - but, the one song they themselves wrote that is included on the album of theirs I have - is horrible. “You make my pants want to get up and dance…” And it doesn’t get any better.
What precipitated this particular ButtonDown is my reaction to the disturbing news that I have a certain kind of dementia. If what I’m reading about it is correct, I’ll be dead in a dozen years or less. Short-term memory is pretty much shot already (I continually ask Jim, “Have I already mentioned that I [fill in the blanks]” and the answer invariably is “Yes.” God love him and his patience.
This by far is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but I am no longer allowed to drive a car because I am officially demented. The car is for sale. If you know anyone who wants a high-powered, cool red car with a turbo-charged engine and a sunroof, and low mileage (fewer than 67,000 miles on a 2006 Pontiac Grand Prix) - let me know. The pedal extenders will need to be removed if someone taller than me (and who isn’t) buys it.
Back when Helene first hit, I was volunteering to pack food boxes at the high school. One of the National Guard guys checking our credentials as we enter the campus asked me to sell him my car engine. He gave me a Post-It note with his phone number, which I threw away, considering that having a car with no engine didn’t make sense.
Anyhow - whatever happens to me between now and whenever I croak doesn’t make a whole lot of difference. I refuse to croak - or make any changes to how I live - until I no longer have the company of Fang and Sadie, my best friends, who love me no matter what. After they’re gone, “whatever will be, will be - que sera, sera.”
xox
Lucy