“To be alive at all is to have scars.” John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent, 1961.

I am in the winter of my content and discontent. Many of us seniors are in the same condition. Perhaps all of us are. 

My arthritis hurts as to be expected. My physicians, on rare occasions, scare the wits out of me, but, so far so good. 

My real scars are from my first three decades. By the grace of God, I’ve worked through many of those problems. I still have miles to travel on that road.

As to the non-living, the New York Times obits for me are both fascinating bios and reminders that many people that would be my age are no longer with us. They can have their fame, I’ll take breathing.

H. Robert Rubin, a best-selling, Amazon memoirist, a novelist with a draft novelette in progress, and author of Look Backward Angel, How Did I Get Through This? and Please Save the Third Dance for Me, all available on Amazon

One thought on ““To be alive at all is to have scars.” John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent, 1961.

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