Bonita

She is seventy years old today. I only learned this fact recently, a result of employing the many engines of nosiness one finds on the worldwide web: enough snippets of information to ensure that this is the same lady and that the age old prerogative of lying about one's age was an opportunity not ignored when we first met three decades ago. There is little to say, except for the concision of this truth: "it was the best of times: it was the worst of times" and this woman, intentionally or not, as some kind of messenger from God or a darker angel from Below, taught me to grow up and to prepare to grow old. Hers was a stellar didacticism (or again, an infernal one). But learn, I did. There is no rainbow. There is no endless party and avoidance of service to someone or something. There are only choices: good ones and bad. Not choosing is a choice as well. Hank Williams, Sr. was right as rain: "I'll never get out of this world alive."