Holy cow! Holy cow!
My brain is speeding right now, fuel injected, turbo boosted. I'm firing on all cylinders. So many thoughts are zooming through my mind, that I had to stop for a while just to capture a few. I've spent all morning and part of the afternoon looking through, culling, and editing my photos from the past few days with my rented lens, the Nikon 200-500 mm.
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This is just a rant. If you read this, you may feel compelled to offer me advice. Please don’t.
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Could it be long-lingering guilt?
Recently, on my neighborhood walk, I noticed an odd behavior of mine that started decades ago, and apparently still occasionally happens. I was walking along a side-walked four-lane road and came upon another road with an attractive older woman sitting in her car, waiting to pull out onto the four-lane.
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I was introduced to the concept of coffee when I was a child. They would not let me drink it, but I got to smell it percolating on the stove, and I watched my father drink his black coffee and I watched my mother drink her coffee with cream and sugar.
I begged them. But mama always said no, “Donnie, you are too young to drink coffee.”
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Today I am 73 years old. Happy birthday to me.
I have every reason to be thankful to be alive. On several occasions in my lifetime, I have flirted with death, or been exposed to deadly circumstances, twice being saved by merely standing here, rather than standing there … and once being saved by my inexperience with alcohol.
To be alive, to still be alive after all these years and all those close calls, feels almost like a miracle, and is certainly worthy of my deepest gratitude for the life I’ve been given and the life I’ve been spared so many times.
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