A
crazy world, a fickle world, unfair, unjust, un-
predictable,
just the way things are. There are
the
rich and the famous, some of whom shouldn’t
be
either. The formally educated, the self-made
intermingle
with the illiterate and stupid. How
does
one make any sense out of anything? Ah,
life’s
mysteries. Other than the human species,
it’s
simply a matter of life or death. No need to
reason,
explain or complicate. Either it is or it
isn’t.
What use is a flashlight light to a hyena?
You
hunt at night in the darkness or you don’t
eat.
As a child I never dreamed of becoming rich
and
famous, and so I never did. I loved Stan Musial
and
Bob Gibson, but never hoped to achieve playing
in
the Big Leagues. There is no place in the Baseball
Hall
of Fame for the likes of me. Never thought I
would
grow up to be old and feeble either. Never
in
a thousand years could I have imagined some-
thing
like that would ever happen to me. Boy, was
I
dumbfounded when I turned seventy-three. See,
that’s
my point—wishes or not, as the old
Doris
Day
song
goes, “Que
Sera, Sera,
Whatever
will be
will
be.” I would sing it for
you, but I never aspired
to
be a singer either.
-30-
Chris
Hanch 5-1-2020
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