What if.......

Them be powerful words.  You.  You there that's been married umpteen kajillion years.  What if you'da grown up elsewhere?  What if you'da never met whatshisname (whatshername).  How would life be different?

What if you'da watched that 30 minute documentary about the magic of compound interest insteada turning the channel to the Knicks/Celtics game?  STOP PLEASE! I love me some basketball!

What if you were white?  What if you were black?  What if you grew up on a homestead, never ever went to school anywheres?

What if Danny DiVito had thoroughly enjoyed his job as a hairdresser at his sister's beauty parlor?  What if Margot Robbie had gone into management instead when she worked at Subway?  What if Nicole Kidman had continued her job as a massage therapist?  OH BABY, heavens to mergatroid, get me that phone number! (VICTOR!  You're not helping!)

What if Dewey had won?  What if Honest Abe wasn't? What if the Mayflower had gone down like the Titanic?  What if Noah's boat had weight restrictions and he only took one of each kind?

What if you hadn't moved to 'XYZ'?  What if you weren't born in 'ABC'?  What if you'da followed your dream?  What if you WOULDN'T have followed your dream?

What if your blog writer kept writing 'what if's' and you tired of it?

OK OK.

The gist:    I'm old.  In one's younger days, we pretty much behave like a horse with blinders.  Money, I wanna make money.  Hubba hubba, I wanna have hubba hubba. Sorry, kinda.  I wanna have a 3 bedroom, 2 bath home and raise curly red-haired, blue-eyed babies.  I wanna work there.  I wanna save to travel. To buy a new car. I want this, i want that.

That's youth.  If you'll notice, it's all really kinda selfish, BUT, that's ok, it comes along with being younger (listen to me sonny or I'll whack you with my cane!)

When one is old, the biggest what if ever happens.  What if I die?  Today, I'd like to focus on 'before dying.'

Howabout one hops on an airplane, and what if it's the last trip? You Pavlov into work (I know, I know, most old people like me are retired, I work part-time at a golf course, I likes it), so, you Pavlov into work.  What if it's my last day to work? Wouldn't I smile all the while and not let goofy stuff bug me?

The grandkids hop outta the car, knock on your door?  What if it's the last time?  Christmas dinner.  You look around the table.  Would you look differently if mebbe it were your last one?

You might offer "Victor, this is all really depressing" and I would counter, "Au contraire, it's all so very beautiful."

Wouldn't it be wonderful to have the attention span, the wonder, the love, the 'hell yeah', the 'gimme gimme gimme more' attitude, the cognition, this might be it?  I don't mean this sadistically at all.

I mean it lovingly.  Graciously.  Some already live thataway.  Some always have.  I'm envious, and very happy for them.

Raising my hand like Horshack, I wanna too.

So, I'll try.  It's cold as hell today. (That don't make much sense, but we say it.)  So it's freezing.  It's SNOWING.  Conjures up YUCK.  PATOOEY.  Did I put enougha that 50-50 crap in the radiator?  Will I slip slide away going to the Piggly Wiggly?  Oh damnit-darnit, the Piggly Wiggly will have lines twenty people deep.  I'd rather be at the beach.

Ahm, but. If we looked at it like "what if this is the last snow?"   Howabout I made it to the Piggly Wiggly, saw old so-and-so in line and i ain't seen him in 30 years?  Howabout I should forget the feeling of being out in it, and remember what it's like to come back into my 72 degree home? (Victor, you idiot, you're a tightwad, you always keep your furnace at 67... Yeah, but you know what I mean!)  

And what if you ARE lucky enough to one day be at the beach?  OK, here's my version of the beach. I'm a ginger.  Gingers wear shirts at the beach, people look at you funny.  Gingers don't stay long for fear of waking up with blisters allover and sunburn so bad you don't wanna move an inch.

What if, what if it were the last time at the beach?  Borrowing from Rowan and Martin, you bet your bippy I would grab onea them adirondack chairs and do nothing but stare.  Listen.  Smile.  Sunburn be damned. I might delight in seeing a jelly fish one more time, yucky as they are.  What's the chance of seeing a porpoise again?  I'd stay a long time on porpoise.  Sorry.  Sand in my crack, no cause for alarm, it's my last time here!  I might collect it and keep it in a baggie as a keepsake.  Ewww.

What if it's the last Royal's game you'll see?  What if Merrifield strikes out three times?  What if Mahome's pass goes through Kelce's hands and into Bengal hands? What if KU beats MU again. NOOOOOOOO!  I mean, it's all ok.  I will enjoy watching all.  It might be my last time.

Friends. Loved ones. Pecan pie. Lasagna.  A big ole tray of lasagna, oh baby! BBQ ribs.  Yoga pants. VICTOR!  Sorry, I was just delighting in delightful stuff.  It might be the last time.

Snow. Rain. Sunshine.  Cloudy.  Fitty degrees.  Zero.  A hunnerd.  Borrowing from Bread (not the kind you eat, the band you listen to on the radio) It don't matter to me.

What radio station would you turn it too one last time?  TV show?  Mebbe on demand ain't sucha bad thing.

What if?  What if we live five more years?  Ten? Dare I say twenty?  Any extra is good.

What if, what if I'da continued to list The Beatles as my all-time fav (I do still love 'em) and they had never been surpassed by The Rolling Stones?

Then I'da maybe never heard Mick sing "Well this could be the last time."

What if I told you I love you?  I do.  I needta tell you.  It might be the last chance I get.  Gonna live from hither on out eyes wide open.  I've loved most every minute of my life.  For the remainder though, I planta fer sure love each and every waking moment.

Love, Victurd