Their Words Had Forked No Lightning

I grew up hours from where I now live which is only fair because I came of age and spent great portions of my life for even longer and much farther from here than I am now, as I enter my senior years (still don't have a varsity letter on my jacket) and undertake Dylan Thomas' most railed against journey.

I've been one of those "wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight" and have the bruises and beatings, inside where only I can see them, to show for all of that. I'll be sixty-two years old later this month which surprises me because I don't feel like an old man but I know I am because when I was young (and trust me, I once was) when I ran into those then my age now, they were old. QED.

Where I live now, I'd never heard of until I got here. Based on the reactions of so many of the people with whom I live, that surprise was mutual. I must admit most of them have been very good sports about it. This is not my hometown but will, in all likelihood, be where I am when I'm finally caught short for the last time.

We do some things around here that make my hair hurt, what little of it I still have and even under the greatest of light, the only color I can see of that which remains is grey, like the remains of the day. If we're being candid with one another, there are things that go on where you live that put you around the twist as well.

We both have movies in our heads about other places we might yet live where everything is vastly improved over where we currently are though if we were to encounter residents of these magical locales, we might be crestfallen to learn of their disappointments and unhappiness. It turns out it's pretty much the same movie with a different cast.

Here's why I think I like my movie over yours. It's three minutes from my house.
Yeah. I figured your walk might be a little longer. I'll give you a head start. Go.
-bill kenny