10 years ago, my mom was in a Northwest Austin hospital. I remember, because we talked about the Kentucky Derby. She liked it, because she grew up near there. She didn’t think much about people betting on horses or anything. It was, for her, a thing to like the way you might like cheese if you are from Wisconsin or mountains if you are from Colorado. We talked about it, and I think it was probably one of our last lucid conversations where she was completely herself when talking to me. She stayed in that hospital for a couple of weeks, and then went into hospice care for a couple more. My mom was only 61 when she died, almost 62. Same as her mom. My dad says my great-grandma also had gotten the same cancer in her forties or fifties, but it had gone away and Nanny had lived to be 97. Who knows if it is something genetically passed on from generation to generation, and I will have it as well. If I get it, I will get it by the age of 50, and fight cancer for ten years or so, and then die.
I think I’m okay with that. I don’t have a lot of other things to say–I’ve said a lot if anyone bothers to ever look under the hood of my hard drive and see everything I’ve written. I’ve passed on my DNA to a little boy who will grow up smart, loved and cared for. His grandparents already have a trust fund going for him. I don’t think I’ll be able to take much credit for the good things he does. They will be good things that come from some other source.
I don’t really know much of anything, anymore, either. That’s the crazy part of being someone who reads a lot, and tries to understand human behavior. The older I get, the more I realize that everything I knew about Christianity, American History, myself, others, reality, God, etc. is probably only a slight glint of an impression taken as a snapshot from one angle, one moment, one point of view. It’s not falsehood, but it’s pretty far enough from the Truth as to be considered suspect. I’m not sure that a lifelong pursuit of books is really better than a pursuit of loving people in the moment.
Loving people in the moment without suspicion or regard to how they might screw you over or pay you back. I think the ones in our world who do that are the ones who keep little lights shining everywhere, even as the darkness seeks to overcome everything.
I hope God and Jesus are a lot nicer than the the God and Jesus I grew up with–if they aren’t, then I’m probably screwed. If they are, then I might get to come back and make another go of it, or get to stay up in a nice place reading my Bible and having good talks with my mom and little brother, oldest brother, Nanny, Grandmothers, Grandfathers, pets, and friends, classmates, coworkers, famous people, anonymous people, etc.
I am really weary of worrying about being judged for not being perfect in all manner of righteousness, perfectly saved, perfectly nice, perfectly politically correct. I am weary of the obligations toward virtues that we humans in any time and place put upon each other in hopes that such straitjackets will ward off the evil that creeps into all of our corners.
I am weary of worrying about whether Trump will fuck up this country for good or not, and worrying about what kind of world my son will grow into.
I am weary of worrying about all of the things I should have done or could have done, but didn’t. I have to let go of all of this, now.