Census
is completed. I have been accounted for
nationwide
by number, nomenclature and name,
ethnicity
too—white male of Greek decent I have
claimed.
That about does it in 2020. I’m good for
the
next ten years.
From
here to there, the only thing I anticipate
changing
is my age. But not so fast, I am not
expecting
to live that long anyway. When you
happen
to be seventy-three, a lifelong smoker
and
caloric consumer of junk food as I am, the
plausibility
of reaching eighty-three seems not
only
farcical but physiologically unlikely.
(As
of late I’ve been poorly situated physically.)
So,
go ahead and define your Congressional lines
to
include me still tenuously engaged in my place
and
time, still a living and breathing yet somewhat
faltering
member of society, same address and
phone
number, though, same basic color of skin
with
assorted, new, blotchy, age spots to report.
Oh,
and given my age and waning physical and
mental
conditioning, it is worth noting that I am
not
half the man I used to be, should that be a
consideration
in your Census-taking redistricting.
In
any case, I am thrilled to report to you (as pre-
vously
alluded to above), I still have an adequate
pulse
rate and heartbeat. And for all it’s worth, at
this
moment in time, whatever the game being
played,
you can still count me in.
-30-
Chris
Hanch 3-27-2020
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