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Yesterday, instead of reveling in the usual Labor Day activities of grilling and posting snarky comments to this blog, I traveled to Denton, Texas, to attend another funeral.  I have been doing entirely too much of that kind of thing these past months.  Too many of those with whom I am akin are passing on, and while I know that it is the just and necessary consequence of living, I am vexed by it having happened as many times as it has in as quick a succession as it has to my people.

I have heard it said, although I do not remember where or when or by whom (for which I apologize), that one of the things that typifies getting old is that the people someone knows keep dying off.  I have complained about feeling like an old man before, but no amount of stark white hair showing up in my beard or moustache feels the way that seeing the honest grief of others does.  If it is that which makes a person old, then I do not know that I want to see myself become so aged.

The services, though, reminded me to reflect on the fact that I am yet well, and that I have been given much else for which to be thankful.  I have thus reflected (and I continue to do so), and I am appreciative of those gifts with which the Creator has seen fit to endow me--including access to a space in which I can publicly state such things.  And if I anticipate that some will reject such statements out of hand, I also know that I am equipped to respond to them as befits--which may well be not at all.

To return from the digression, though: more normal entries, insofar as any of my writings can be considered "normal," should resume tomorrow or shortly thereafter.  I like doing the work of pushing my writing out into the world, and I have the time in which to do it once again.  Hopefully, I will run into something worth more reading.