Down at the shop yesterday a manchild stopped to spread the Gospel a little bit and enjoy the beautiful day. He told us all about Moses and Methuselah and how they truly lived to be 900 years old because the land and the air and the water were pure and God had set no limits on the age of man. Then, perhaps due to overcrowding, or because God grew tired of hearing their lame jokes for the 10,000th time a general cap was placed on the age a man could expect to become. According to this rolling archangel on a royal blue Boss Cruiser a man could expect to live three score plus 10 give or take a year, and those that surpassed Three Score + 10 would know travail.
Maybe he scared me, but I suspect travail is creeping in on all sides. Working with the bit pulled all the way back in my teeth, nostrils flared, and eyes rolled back in my head I can see a little blue sky up there, but my point of reference is four paces ahead of the plow. No more time for making mudpies and killing ants, today’s fun is more complicated- all origami birds and ships in bottles. One unsure lurch and the effort is dashed.
Makes an inner child want to run and hide.