One Rambling Aging Baby Boomer's Perspective

In the early morning hours of the first day of January, ten years into the twenty-first century, I began writing stories in a little black journal for those in my family who are on the same life path as I but trailing far behind me. The intent of this journal was to share my experiences, along with life lessons I'd learned along the way, and the wisdom I'd gained while traveling down that sometimes-treacherous road years ahead of them.  My hope was to save my loved ones from the mistakes I had made. How could they possibly navigate their way through life without a how-to guidebook?

With a cup of coffee in my left hand, a pen in my right, I starred at the blank page in front of me and imagined a time in the distant future, after I'm gone, when a member of my family would discover my little black journal. "Hey everyone, come quickly! Look what I found," would be the call heard from the attic where an antique chest covered in decades of dust had just been opened and inside sat my little black journal. Later that evening, when my family was finally done sorting through one hundred and twelve boxes of pictures, memorabilia, and miscellany, they would all gather around the fireplace, pick up my journal and take turns reading my stories.

At noon my hand began to shake uncontrollably and then cramp. And that was the hand that was holding the coffee cup. My pen hand was fine and eager to write more, but after six hours I had completed only two paragraphs. With cross outs and revisions there was only one sentence left that was to my liking. I imagined a time in the future, after I'm gone, when my family would gather at my house to meet with a real estate agent, make hurried decisions about which black bag they should put my things: GOODWILL, TRASH or RECYCLE, and then go back to their busy lives.

At 12:01 p.m. I threw my little black journal in the trash, opened my computer and began typing a blog...a whimsical blog that refuses to speak of lessons learned or wisdom earned or be a guidebook or take me seriously; a rambling blog that tells unauthorized stories about me that some readers feel are too raw, revealing, and unflattering; a tenacious blog that continues to tell my stories after five years and imagines a time in the future, after I'm gone, when my family may want to read them; an honest blog that, under all that whimsy, reveals the truth about life. The truth, that is, from one rambling aging baby boomer's perspective.