The event milestone that won’t weather with time

13,361.

That number decreases with each passing day, a series of symbols — 6th May 2050 — that holds premium place in the activities of our species.

Yet I want to ignore it, make the goals of others my goals, instead, goals that are more fun in the interim because they are goals that erase me from my thoughts.

But 13,361 days still remain.

To get there, we build reality in the thoughts and actions of our species, feeding storylines about offworld settlements that seem more real now when they’re in the future than when they’ll be our present reality later on.

The everyday reality of designing rockets, habitation modules, and autonomous cybernetic beings that will contain body parts we call human because our planet’s history has given us the belief in sets of states of energy that seem “natural,” created from procreation without extra thought on our part.

I want to devote myself to the spirit of the dance, merge my thoughts with Abi’s, become one with her on the dance floor and forget about extraplanetary development.

I want to devote myself to the spirit of the dance, merge my feet hopping with Jenn’s, become one with the infinite joy of unbridled laughter on the dance floor which feeds my thoughts about extraplanetary development.

My wife wants me to devote myself to the spirit, if not the letter, of our marriage, align my thoughts with hers, enjoy the occasional fun on the dance floor and focus solely on a financial security that sufficiently covers the cost of staying home most nights after eating out and watching television together on the sofa, taking a major holiday trip every two years.

I believe that all three scenarios in the previous three paragraphs are possible but take extra effort on my part to manage expectations, reduce my alcohol consumption, get a good night’s sleep and avoid long naps during the day.

Do I schedule my waking hours again like I used to when I was a corporate office worker?

Happiness is a generic word that I have achieved in quiet moments like taking a walk in the woods and seeing a clump of moss, and in intense moments of euphoric joy like dancing with women of all shapes and sizes or cheering for my favourite college football team.

Question to me: how intense do I want my happiness to me?  Me who often consumes friendships without kind consideration?

Sleep on it.  That’s the answer.

Until tomorrow!

A musical note

The thing about getting older — a three-year old talking about when she was two, or a 51-year old talking about when he was 14 — is the mental taste, the texture, the feel of the memory.

We can consider ourselves fortunate to be alive during our times or not.

I am fortunate.

I got to hear some of the jazz greats while they were alive, even if they were past their prime and out of the mainstream media spotlight.

My memories feel so good!

And one set of those memories centers on the brass section.

Hey, I was a baritone horn player (and euphonium, too!)…what can I say except I’m biased toward cold mouthpieces and valved musical instruments?

Take some of these jazz players I heard, regardless of instrument — Sun Ra, Pete Fountain, for instance.  They were all great.

But the trumpet…well, it’s a special instrument.  Sure, I’ve written about this before but some topics are worth remembering again and again, especially hearing live performances.

Maynard Ferguson

Doc Severinson

and now John Harner.

Imagine the ones I’ve/you’ve missed.  The best thing about missed opportunities?  Well, more room for opportunities ahead of you!   The legacy continues, thank goodness.

One more time — Maynard Ferguson!