Expendable?

I was so tired after work that I could not remember your name.

When I was but a child I was told that the Eskimos (and mind you, I was but a child, so we still used words like Eskimo instead of Inuit) had a practice of shoving their elderly off on a block of ice when they had outlived their usefulness. The way the story was told, (and I'm sure I could Wikipedia this story and find out the veracity of it. But that's not always the point, facts, facts, facts. Sometimes you need to listen to the damn story. The world was not made inside a computer. F facts) ((Written like a true artiste)) (((E included for emphasis))). the elderly person was a willing partner in this sacrifice. They realized that they were a burden to the community and that their time to go had come. It's a beautiful story whether Wikipedia believes it or not.

I'm sorry that we talked for so long, in the shadow of the building, without me ever remembering.

Friends, colleagues, other people. A less beautiful story took place a mere week or so ago on the AU college campus. I walked briskly to work (whistling joyously) ((those who know me best know that I am prone to fits of joyful whistling even on the darkest of days)). I often lie. And as I smiled my way into that beautiful crisp Autumn morning, the trees all shedding leaves, like red tears of long forgotten lovers, (I mean that's literally what I was thinking as I was walking underneath those trees...or not. Refer above) I noticed a line of youthful people spreading across the quad.

Perhaps it started with an R? And if it started with an R, maybe this time it will be different.

I gamboled (something I do often) my way over to the gathering of beautiful young minds and made an inquiry of them.

M: Perchance, fair ho (You'll have to forgive my poor verbiage. Understand, I've not been to Knights of the Round Table or a Renaissance fair. Quite frankly, I can barely handle the word Renaissance. I always want to spell it Renassaince. I bet Chaucer spelled it that way. That crazy bastard.) you can tell me whilst you have all been gathering?

Maybe things will be different for me because you'll be a different you.

FH: (At this point the FH explained to me that the young folks were all gathered together to receive a vaccine for the H1N1, which translated loosely in to terms that non-scientists can understand is, "Imminent doom and death for all those who don't get immunized."

M: Oh, shall I wait in line to obtain thine elixir?

FH: (FH, quite rudely I might add, pointed out the lines on my forehead and asked whether I was indeed worthy to actually get the vaccine).

That's when I realized that I was essentially an elderly person in an Eskimo village. My best years behind me. There I was, standing in line to get the vaccine, but I was too damn old. I tried to explain to the FH that I didn't want to be pushed out on the iceberg yet.
M: I haven't even written my novel yet. I've got a novel in me. (Eighty five percent of the population thinks they've got a novel in them somewhere. I'm guessing that the percentage is higher if add in memoirs). The FH was unswayed by my pleas for mercy and I walked slowly to work, alone, old, confused, trying to think of all the things I had left undone.

Maybe this time we'll introduce ourselves before we start talking. We'll say witty things while the weather gets colder.A sense of humor is what's most needed in December.