It takes life to love life.

December 29, 2013 § 9 Comments

Gravestone Apalachicola, FLWe are about to step out of this old year, like a pair of worn jeans, broken in and familiar, but a little frayed at the cuffs, and step into the new.

Although a new year is artificial, the thread of life continuous, I like the moments when it seems as if life resets and I get to choose again—not how life will treat me, but how I will treat life.

As I consider the opportunity that is 2014, a voice comes back to me from a play I was in at Princeton High, a voice from Edgar Lee Masters’ “Spoon River Anthology.”

In the play, the dead, all of whom are sleeping, sleeping on the hill, have their say. One after another they explain how life, or as one calls it, “the crooked game of life” has treated them.

Sitting on a stool hugging my guitar—I was the singer who provided musical interludes between their monologues–I listened as the dead recalled slights and missed opportunities, and their disappointment over what might have been but never came to fruition. They explained their hard luck, they named those who had shortchanged them.

Most, it seemed, were suspended in an eternity of yearning. If only, if only.

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