Nothing profound here, but I sure enjoyed it. This morning I strolled through the neighborhood until I reached an arterial bounded on both sides by green expanses, some of which are under a canopy of mature trees.

Weather was perfect and all seemed well.  It was beautiful.

Police seemed to be lurking all over the place. Men sitting in vehicles for no apparent reason also looked unusually common out there. One of the police cars was menacing black and I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that it had Bond style machine guns hidden behind some flap.

Later that night, I went out there again and took an even longer walk and didn’t see a single cop car. Despite the glorious weather, I didn’t find couples or many other walkers. There were some runners and a dog walker. A kid with a cigarette and skate board passed on the other side.

Rabbits scurried along the bushes ahead of me and most of the way dogs alerted me that they knew I was there.

The “feel” of the various back yards was unique from house to house the whole way. Some seemed cozy inviting. Many were well tended expressions of personal taste. Others were starkly utilitarian!

One duplex was so full of life that I could hear it long before I could see it. Same  as every time. They’re loud people with loud kids and they sound happy. Two of the residents were running around calling the name of their missing little Chiwawa dog. They should have checked the tread of their shoes.

I was musing over painting and drawing concept ideas. The British Field Meet is coming  and a friend and I need some ideas for it.

The thoughts I’d had earlier came back to mind. One illustrated my departure from the company. Another captured an amusing interaction at the store that had me grinning the whole time I was waiting in the checkout line.

That second walk lasted an hour and a half. I marvel at how safe I felt and hoped that would continue through my lifetime and beyond.

With me was a puny stick, for no particular reason. In one hand, I carried a new kinetic watch that I used the walk to charge up. The stick was a gift from four year old Cecilia who thought I might enjoy it. Because it was from her, I really did.

Passing through the graveyard reminded me of a conversation with the company attorney where I used to work. I’d gotten a car and was seeking another and I think he considered it foolish because he asked, “do you have your retirement funded?”

He’d wanted a Corvette but by the time he could easily afford to pay cash, he was more interested in saving for the future.

I knew it could all be taken away, so I went ahead and got the kind of car I really wanted to drive. He chose not to. Now he’s dead and he never did retire. One of the final statements he made when he was still lucid was that he regretted not getting the car. It isn’t that the car is such a big deal. He simply gambled that he would live a long time and would need cash if his job went away. Instead, he went away permanently and someone else got all that money.

The overgrown markers along the border of the graveyard were for lives that end 70 and 80 years ago.

They cheered on my decision to change my life now and put it together so that I’m contributing through my peculiar talent set. I will die just as all those people once did. Continuing without making this change would put me on the odd position of misusing a resource akin to taking an Aston Martin and hooking it up to plow. It is not a tractor. There are tractors for plowing.

By the time I reached the house, I still had not devised new art ideas for the All British Field Meet, but my resolve and confidence in this change was bolstered.

Interestingly, as I reached the end of the grave yard, there was either a body or a sleeping man layed out  in the darkness serving as a reminder that I could lose all the resources I now depend upon. Better to act now, while they are in my reach.