May 1
May 1. Another birthday. It’s hard to believe how quickly this past year flew by, and it’s hard to believe I am nearly fifty years old. I don’t feel old, but I do feel weary, as though I’ve seen too much. “You’re not old, Joel,” Sarah tells me. “Because if you’re old, what does that make me?” What indeed? Sarah, the love of my life, remains as beautiful as ever, a constant in a changing world. Was life always this frail and uncertain? I recall it being more settled, less frightening. We knew who the enemies were, our climate remained constant, and though we didn’t completely trust our government, at least we believed that, stumbling though they might be, our leaders wanted what was best for the nation. These days, I wonder if we know anything for certain. Economic news continues to disappoint. The value of the dollar falls daily, it seems, while the price of oil hits new highs. Stocks go up and down, and though I have made a little money, I must agree that the indexes act illogically. And already the changing climate makes its presence known, and crops fail and extreme weather haunts, it seems, every corner of the nation. The pundits predict bank failures and recession, but whether that is our future or just what sells I cannot be sure. My friend Bill down in Los Angeles looks at the events of this past year and sees an approaching apocalypse. He misuses the word: he means Armageddon, but like so many, he thinks the two words are synonyms. Apocalypse means revelation, understanding, and perhaps in that sense he is right. The world is changing, that is certain. But change does not mean annihilation, and when some things end others begin. Bill says I am an optimist.
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