Saturday, July 22

Marilyn and I went to the funeral, yesterday, of the old fellow who died earlier this week.  He lived a long time in this area so the church was packed; he'd outlived most of his contemporaries but he had touched the lives of many people who came to pay their respects.  Listening to the eulogy from his daughter, I realised he had been born exactly two weeks before my father.  And I realised that Dad has been dead for thirty years!

How unfair is life?  We all come into the world with so much promise but it is a lottery and we can't ever know what cards we will be dealt.  Dad was 68 when he died, his father was just 51 and his grandfather was 61 when their lives came to an end.  Doctors raise their eyebrows when I give them that information but I can't let that worry me.  I have to focus on making the most of the time allotted to me.

When I look back on my life, I find myself focusing more on what has happened in the past twenty years than the first fifty.  That's not to denigrate that first half century, but it's a time when we were so busy getting ahead, we didn't take the time to smell the roses.  What if I had drawn the short straw like my grandfather, John Christie, who dropped dead at 51, walking home from work?

Marilyn and I had our first overseas trip when I was 55, we had our first cruise when I was 63.  I started working at Giant Steps when I was 57 and had our first introduction to the Philippines at 61.  I joined Rotary when I was 58 and directed the Tasmanian Craft Fair four times in my sixties.

At funerals, you often hear the phrase 'a long life, lived well'.  I'm not so sure about the need for a long life, but it needs to be long enough to do some of things which are only possible when your major attention is not just on making a living and feeding your family.  When I go, I hope someone says 'a life lived well.'