It’s my 77th birthday. All the trite expressions apply: “If I had known I would live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.” “I’m my oldest living relative.” “Damn, life goes quickly.”
Many things have happened in 77 years. Some of which I am proud, some of which I am not, most of which I’m just not sure. I have been a newspaper boy, a grocery clerk, a Navy computer tech, a Navy paralegal, a law student, and a lawyer. Those are just the ways I have paid the bills. I have also been a husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and a pastor. Those are the roles for which I will likely be remembered. I’m just not sure how positively.
I once wrote a novel, but couldn’t get it published. I spent twenty years in prison ministry, where I learned that our justice system doesn’t work well, that not everyone in jail should be there, and that not everyone who should be there is. I once tried to be a carpenter and spent a year building a piece of furniture for my wife. With the money I spent on tools, I could have furnished the entire house. I wrote a blog for years, then quit, then restarted, then quit, and now maybe restarting again.
There are great things about writing a blog. You can vent, complain, preach, or wax eloquently. You can believe the world is listening or nobody is. You can believe you are a voice crying in the desert or just part of the mumbling majority.
There are better ways to spend your time, but probably more awful ways.
So maybe: welcome back to my long-abandoned blog. If that turns out not to be true, then just think “Happy Birthday to Nick
.”
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