Captain's Log - One Big Round

This doesn’t happen that often anymore, but it's almost time to send the paper to print, and I still haven’t written the Log. But here we are today. 

I had made a note earlier in the week as I laughed at my barnyard… these roosters think that by some medieval misunderstanding of nature, they are solely responsible for calling the sun back to earth each morning. Beginning at 3 a.m. 

It appears that they firmly believe that without their cries and beckoning, we would be locked in eternal darkness. And when I open the door for them at 7 a.m., when the sun actually rises, they strut across the yard as though they are entering a stage with such satisfaction, believing that they were wholly responsible for the very sunrise. We should clearly be honoring them with accolades and applause. 

There are people in my life who would shoot me if I told you about the recent conversations that made me realize how grateful I am for them. They are very noble people who don’t want their lives on display or their advancing age discussed. Understandable, of course. These two people are very dear to me, and the realization that they aren’t going to stick around forever is finally starting to dawn on me. 

The thought of them leaving makes me really sad. I don’t want to lose either one of them; there is still so much to learn, and they are so enjoyable. There is never enough time to just be with the people we love.  

Which also made me think how lucky I am to be filling that role with my kids. I’m in the middle of joy with very good people ahead of me and behind. 

With any luck, I still have 30 more good years to enjoy these kids and grandkids. Which then made me think I had better take better care of myself so I can last longer and not be frail. 

This is all just a lot of navel-gazing and observing the one big round in action. Those roosters call in the sun every morning, and our people eventually leave us. Pretty sure I’ve written about the Fiddler on the Roof before. 

So while we enjoy every little bit of life we can squeeze out of our people and our chickens and our newspapers, we’ll still be right here…

...Keeping you Posted. 

Rach