Jim turned 50 yesterday. It sure doesn't take long to live 50 years. I know, I'm right behind him. It won't take long to live the two years until it is my turn.
Jim's remaining auntie called yesterday morning to wish him happy 50th. She wondered if she sent a card, (which she had), and remind him his present is waiting for him. She then recited a cute little ditty about being happy the stork delivered a nice baby boy to her brother's house, which I can't remember because it was hard to hear and I wasn't ready.
Fifty years doesn't take very long to live from her end of it, she's 90. And when the second 50 years of her life is over, so are a lot of other things. The way of life that she remembers and tells us every time she visits. The one room schools and the way they learned in them, the stern discipline at home and school, the poetry she learned by heart and remembers to this day, how she dressed up kittens, walked to school, gathered eggs, helped at home; growing up to live and work as a maid or nanny in big houses.
She lived and worked in the 'modern era', but those childhood memories will soon be gone forever.
I need to do a better job of listening