Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Yesterday at my early morning doctor's appointment I was advised to think of the flat mole along my jaw line as a "barnacle on the boat of life."


Writing's been taking a back seat to summer chores and various household distractions these last two weeks.


Saturday I turn 60 (OK, I'm sorry, I know I've mentioned this before) and it's messing with my head a little. I've been in a retrospective mood even while wanting to kick out the jambs and get back to Appearances.


I was a Cold War baby.  I can't dissociate that from my history.  That I evaded the draft into the Vietnam War was an accident of my health history--I'd a history of seizures as a child and was still medicated for same (but being weaned from the medication) at the time of my low lottery pick.

I had to go for a draft physical and, prior to the physical, had to fill out forms which asked for a brief essay about how I felt about serving.  I was still writing after everyone else had filled in their forms and the official time for composition had passed.

 I walked up to the officer at the desk and handed the papers in late with all eyes in the hall on me.  It was a creepy moment.



  1. Oh Tom honey. I'm so glad you didn't have to go and I know what you mean about the weirdness of turning 60 it's fraught and suspect and monumental. I have had one summer of self pity I tell you what. Grateful for you and your work all of it.

  2. Dude, 60 aint nothin but half of 120. You can still fool yourself that you aint "that old"....just wait. Trust me and have a good time.


  3. Thanks Rebecca. There's no one I'd rather share a birthday month with than you.

    Anyway, thanks for the advice.