It’s the End
When I woke up this morning I knew I was looking at the end: the end of my life. I’m not being dramatic here, just realistic. Every life has an end, that’s a simple fact, and I’m getting close to the end of mine (I’m 71).
“Close” probably means a number years, how many is anybody’s guess, but I am calmly regarding my final scene. I’m not going anywhere from here.
I could have a worse final scene. All things considered, La Alegria is pretty place—and cheap too. My landlord is supposed to show up today, trim the hedge, pull up the weeds, and collect his rent. My little chickens (pollitos) were patiently waiting for me to feed them this morning, which I did; they are getting big fast. Then I sat down at my immortality machine (this laptop computer).
Five hundred years ago, after the printing press was invented, a writer could flatter himself that his words were immortal, because they would be printed and saved for posterity. Hah! There are now so many writers and books we are drowning in them—as this link explains. I assume you have looked at the link to the article in the New York Times and are now back looking at me.
I skipped over an important moment this morning: I listened to Blonde, about the final years of Marilyn Monroe, when she did her final movie The Misfits, written by her last husband Arthur Miller and co-starring the aging Clark Gable. The writeup in Wikipedia on Monroe, which I just read, is excellent, and ends with some quotes that make it clear she was a smart cookie, not just a dumb blond.
That is typical of my life, I have access to the world’s best books and recordings and a wide-band Internet access. I have to take a pain pill before I can walk very far, because of my bad knee. But I have a bicycle I can use for further excursions. To go further, I just get on the bus in Orosi, change to another bus in Cartago, and go a far as I like.
It could be worse.