Almost one year to the day before Edward Van Halen died, I texted a friend whom I was pretty sure would know the answer to a question that had been troubling me for some time.
R.I.P. E.V.H.
Personal
50
Half a century. Yikes.
Listen, I’m optimistic about how much time I have left, but even if all of this working out and healthy eating pays off, an objective reading of the actuarial chart still suggests that I’d have to squint pretty hard to see the halfway point in my rearview mirror right now. Add to that the fact that each year now passes more quickly than the one that came before it and it’s easy to imagine that whatever time I do have left is going to feel exponentially more brief than the previous five decades.
Remembering 9/11
I took that photo back in August of 1995 from the bow of the Staten Island Ferry during my first-ever visit to Manhattan. Despite having grown up just a couple hundred miles away, I somehow managed to not go there until I was 25. I guess I just assumed that it couldn’t be much different than Boston, so why bother?