Getting old can make you tired.
But not necessarily in ways you assume.
Later this month, I will be sixty two years old.
In some ways, I am still twenty.
In other ways, Moses looks like a teenager to me.
But, as you might imagine, I am tired.
Physical fatigue?
Well, sure.
I need to lose weight, my blood pressure wanders around from okey doeky to "hmm, we might want to keep an eye on that".
And any professional baseball player would kill for my cholesterol number as a batting average.
But, I still manage to walk (semi briskly) a mile and a half a day.
That's outside in the fresh country air and doesn't count trips back and forth to the refrigerator later in the day.
And, in spite of my family pre-disposition for assuming that every little chest cramp is the onset of the big one, every test I've had on purpose or by routine in the past year indicates that I am in, basically, good health.
See, there's that family hypochondria thing again. I simply couldn't bear to say good health and had to qualify it with the word "basically".
Once again, though, I am tired.
Here's something that was once easy for me to handle that now exhausts me.
What follows is a recent post on FB from a professional peer/acquaintance.
And what follows that are five "comments" regarding said post.
Each comment is from a different FB'er.
And, out of respect and courtesy, all names have been excluded.
Political rhetoric aside, can anyone explain why this nutty Fort Hood shooter is not being tried as a terrorist?
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