It could be worse.

My somewhat dear friend and neighbor Julie is trying to deflate my ego. That’s why I am calling her ‘somewhat dear.’  She says that in my neighborhood I really don’t have any friends. That everyone thinks of me as an eccentric old man. Who spends most of his time pacing back and forth. Yes, I may be eccentric. But at 80, I’m not yet ready to concede that I’m old. As for that matter of pacing. No. No. I’m working out. I put in 10 miles daily. Rather religiously. Maybe to prove that I’m not so old, after all. Meanwhile, I wish my neighbors would think of me as a happy and blessed man. Because I’ve had two true loves. Dear sweet Jeanne. My wife for 38 bountiful years.  Until she died of Alzheimer’s eight years ago. Now I’m linked to dear sweet Cristina, my Italian amore. She’s arriving today.  For a six-week stay with me. In the neighborhood.  Wow! I’m thrilled. To have lived long enough to be doubly blessed. But maybe a third blessing is to have Julie. No, she isn’t a true love by any means. But hey, No reason to complain about a somewhat dear friend. Out to shatter my ego. It could be worse. --Jim