Everyone dies, but no one knows when.

I have read with interest the posts of bradhicks and dkoleary about being convinced that they would die at a certain age.

I felt a bit puzzled, because I never shared this experience.

But then I remembered my own version of it.

( My future, as I saw it. )

A very special episode of the Big Ol' Dork Show...

Somewhat recently, my father told me a story from my childhood.

I couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 years old. Apparently, it was right around tax time and he was very anxious and worried (and therefore extremely scary.)

I had gone to my Mom and asked her why Papa was so grumpy (Or, more likely, I had asked her why I couldn't go bother him.) It was explained to me that he was worried and that it would pass. I managed to pick up that his worry had something to do with money. I had a vague concept of money, and knew that I had some change in a piggy bank (or some such.)

So, my father tells me that I came up to him with some coins clenched in my grubby fist and offered them to him, to make him feel better. I asked if this would help. (All 17 cents of it.)

Cute story, huh?

I have no memory of this event. Papa remembers it as though it were yesterday. I wonder what other stories he has in that inscrutable mind of his?

I wonder if I will ever be brave enough to ask him?
I came to an important realization recently; that I am frequently as baffling to him as he is to me. It confuses him that I was stubborn about strange and unimportant things (and still am.) And he probably wonders where I get it from. (It isn't from my Mom, that's for sure...)

Am I brave enough to leap the gulf?