Will Ya Stilll Need Me, Will Ya Still Feed Me, When I'm 64?

Today I turned 64. It is not an exciting day, with gifts and friends calling to buy me a beer. I sit, as I do every day, in front of the computer, hacking away on my current freelance assignment. I thought to chronicle a bit, and as I am not having a really good day, will set down a few things as seen from the POV of an old Coon.

I am relatively happy. I sat last night on the roof with a glass of whiskey and enjoyed the moon racing through high white clouds. It was very warm - in the 70's - and I was happy to still be alive. My own little brand of mental illness keeps me a stranger to many of friends and relatives, but I am secure in my reclusiveness. I am not unhappy because of this condition but hey! I medicate...

My daughter turns 35 this year. She and I are not close, and it bothers me. she has been distant to me since her mother and I divorced. I haven't seen my granddaughters grow up like I wish, and this will not go well with me when I lay a'dying. Being a son of the Buddha, I am reminded of how He expounds on forming attachments, and it comforts me.

I am making good money writing, which has been my lifelong dream. the checks come in like clockwork every two weeks, and it keeps me in beer money. The home I have chosen to live in is easily paid for, and although there is not a new Tesla roadster in the garage, there is a halfassed decent Dodge Dakota 4X4 that meets my needs. Good stereo and all. We eat regularly, I have the option of working for myself, and work when I want to. It doesn't get any better than that.

My work is such that I can take it on the road. Tonight my son comes from Indiana, and I will go back to Anderson after he plays around at salmon camp. His lovely wife Sara is the apple of an old man's eye, beautiful and fair, and treating an old Coon with dignity and respect. We bonded on first meet, and have been close every since. She is a delight to behold...

I have a good wife, strong willed and temperamental, but a great woman all the same. She takes care of my needs, gives me much space that I so desperately need, and puts up with my quirks and idiosyncrasies. She knows what it is like to live with an old vet with PTSD, and makes allowances, as do all that love me. We have a good but uncomplicated life. We are hard workers, generally working 7 days a week, and spending frugally in the process. I don't wanna eat dog food when I am too old to hammer this keyboard.

Life has dealt me some really shitty blows. But it has blessed me in the process. I have no regrets, and wouldn't do a thing differently than I have. And in the final analysis, when I finally reach end of days, I can slide up to my grave, tip a cold one, and say, "Man, what a fucking ride". Who needs more?

Peace,

Charlie~

:D