To write an effective blog post, one needs to narrow their focus into a wafer-thin slice of life, a neat little serving of five to eight hundred words that connect to the larger world while serving as a complete thing unto itself.
But I am having a harder and harder time of cutting things down. Even though I have a surfeit of personal and cultural dividing lines to choose from (and nothing serves as a better dividing line than the death, deliberate or not, of a parent), I am feeling less and less inclined to make those surgical slices. Everything happening in the world and everything happening in my life seems all too connected, and yet connections that are honest, faithful and true seem much too few in these declining days.
When I wake in the morning, the world presents itself in terms that are sharply reduced from any other time I have known; but I am in denial. I know now that no one I meet from here on will ever see me as anything but an “old man;” but I know the truth of it and see myself at all ages looking out on a world that swims by in a blur.
I find myself becoming less and less interested in the future; my personal time machine takes me most often to places where everyone I loved is still alive.