I read recently that death is the number 1 killer in the world.
Interesting, that. Then why must I listen to endless harangues pointing to fatty foods and lack of exercise as the number 1 killer? A friend of mine insists that anger-with-a-smile (snarkism) will surely kill me. What a lot of nerve! It’s death that will kill me. Try arguing with that.
Do away with death and we have the problem licked. I would be able to travel blithely on down these sunshiny roads into the forever. No last words, nor will and testament. No endless rhetoric about where old Bobs went when she finally died. ’Cause I will not die. Tears and grief will always be with us, but their applications would be limited to poverty, divorce, lost wallets, etc. A fate worse than death? Forget it.
There is a consideration that I have left out. You mebbe noticed?
I am thinking specifically of fatigue. Prolonged activity, continued stress, tedium all serve to weaken me over time. I become slow moving, huff a little up the hills, lost on the calendar somewhere between 1937 and 2017.
And then there is pain … which wears one down faster than anything. Ask an old Subaru who toils endlessly up and down these hills, transmission rattling, engine temperature rising beyond and beyond. I think any engine worth its salt will call for the end eventually.
I withdraw my proposal that we eliminate the number 1 killer. Let there be a time when even a spider in the bathroom will scare me to death.
Let there be an ending as well as a beginning. Shoot me if all else fails.
