46 years in the making

It was a hot sunny day and my dad was proud but displeased that my college would give Bill Proxmire an honorary degree that commie and it was so hot in those black robes that somebody fainted and I don’t remember any specific words that were said except “onward.” And maybe nobody said “onward” but that was what they meant to say.

And 46 years have passed 46 (forty-six) [four tee sicks] are you kidding me? That’s more than twice as old as I was that afternoon and so I have lived three of the lifetimes I had lived up to that moment.

Time did not fly, and it is not flying now, it is just hard to believe the planet has circled the sun 46 times since that May 18 when I stood and accepted a bit of sheepskin written in Latin because that’s how traditional my college was, hard to believe because the emotions are just as fresh though long gone.

I have fewer than 46 trips around the sun left and miles to go before I sleep (or at least I hope there are miles, it could be a few feet or a couple of inches) and so much has happened and mistakes and triumphs and wins and losses and pain and gain and all the rest, and here I am still to tell the tale.

I suppose there are lessons learned and all that stuff, but today I just remember, and — all those cliches about it feels like only yesterday but I know it’s been a long long time? Yep. That’s why it’s a cliche: At some point everybody feels it.

Published by WarrenBluhm

Wordsmith and podcaster, Warren is a reporter, editor and storyteller who lives near the shores of Green Bay with his wife, a golden retriever named Dejah Thoris Princess of Mars, and Blackberry, an insistent cat. Author of Full, Refuse to be Afraid, Gladness is Infectious, 24 flashes, How to Play a Blue Guitar, Myke Phoenix: The Complete Novelettes, A Bridge at Crossroads, The Imaginary Bomb, A Scream of Consciousness, and The Imaginary Revolution.

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