I don’t intend to live long. 

There’s an old joke, “What’s the best way to make God laugh?  Make a plan.”  I doubt that I will be lucky enough to be blessed with a timely demise.  Not that I really have a strong suicidal urge (not compared to the next seriously depressed person).  I simply don’t like the idea of being old and infirmed, embarrassingly relying on my loved ones to take care of me while I slowly lose my physical and mental faculties.

The reason for this semi-self-destructive diatribe is that I believe I suffered what could be a classic mid-life crisis at the age of 18.  I had been accepted to college and was preparing to go there in September.  But that summer, I decided to dip my toes into the craziness and try to revive my long slumbering barbaric yawp.

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