Hey, everyone. It seems the summer has flown by. What with working for a living, blogging, writing and house renovation it has really zoomed along for me. I like to stay fairly active, however.
I hate that I haven't gone to the beach this year. I can feel the sand between my toes as I sit here in my desk chair typing you this missive. It is really carpet, I know, but in my mind I feel the sand.
I think about the mountain trails I used to hike. I think about going to Braves games at old Fulton County Stadium and later at Turner Field. I think about shooting basketball in the evenings and many other things.
What did you expect to do this summer? It may not be too late. If you knew this was the last summer of your life, what would you do? Recently I was sick for ten days with some sort of flu. It made me realize that sweat is a good thing. What I mean is this. You take a guy that is seriously ill, who can't get outside and work. That guy would probably be thrilled to mow his grass, and enjoy sweating as he did so. He'd probably like to feel a hammer in his hand as he nailed boards and built his own house. He'd like to feel the dirt between his toes as he dug 'taters' in his garden. If his vision could clear and his zest and vitality would return for a while, he'd love to see that smile on his girlfriend's face and walk with her through a park. He'd like to sit in a concert hall and hear music well and truly played. He'd like to dive into that clear water of the old swimming hole once again and feel his muscles propel him across to the other side. He wouldn't hate so bad putting together that darn bicycle on Christmas Eve.
I am bad to rail at my fate, and my luck, sometimes. I used to laugh at old people who told me, "If you have your health, you have just about everything. I don't laugh at them now.
There is not just a summer for every year, there is a summer of your life. For God's sake, get out and live it. Fall in love. Do something stupid, if you must, because everyone else has. You younger guys, follow Doc Holliday's advice. "Go find that spirited girl and make her your own." Love her, and life, fiercely. At least, when you're old and grey you'll have some memories of those fleeting days of summer.
From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
I hate that I haven't gone to the beach this year. I can feel the sand between my toes as I sit here in my desk chair typing you this missive. It is really carpet, I know, but in my mind I feel the sand.
I think about the mountain trails I used to hike. I think about going to Braves games at old Fulton County Stadium and later at Turner Field. I think about shooting basketball in the evenings and many other things.
What did you expect to do this summer? It may not be too late. If you knew this was the last summer of your life, what would you do? Recently I was sick for ten days with some sort of flu. It made me realize that sweat is a good thing. What I mean is this. You take a guy that is seriously ill, who can't get outside and work. That guy would probably be thrilled to mow his grass, and enjoy sweating as he did so. He'd probably like to feel a hammer in his hand as he nailed boards and built his own house. He'd like to feel the dirt between his toes as he dug 'taters' in his garden. If his vision could clear and his zest and vitality would return for a while, he'd love to see that smile on his girlfriend's face and walk with her through a park. He'd like to sit in a concert hall and hear music well and truly played. He'd like to dive into that clear water of the old swimming hole once again and feel his muscles propel him across to the other side. He wouldn't hate so bad putting together that darn bicycle on Christmas Eve.
I am bad to rail at my fate, and my luck, sometimes. I used to laugh at old people who told me, "If you have your health, you have just about everything. I don't laugh at them now.
There is not just a summer for every year, there is a summer of your life. For God's sake, get out and live it. Fall in love. Do something stupid, if you must, because everyone else has. You younger guys, follow Doc Holliday's advice. "Go find that spirited girl and make her your own." Love her, and life, fiercely. At least, when you're old and grey you'll have some memories of those fleeting days of summer.
From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
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