St. Rose

Have you ever felt that life is rushing at you and there is nothing you can do to slow it down? When I was young I thought I was going to be dead by the time I was 20, so I adopted St. Rose as my patron saint because she was martyred when she was 20. Quelle surprise! I am still here. Maybe because I am not Catholic anymore? No, that doesn't follow. It is a miracle that I am here though. My mother survived the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918. Now it is thought, this generation may have to face the bird flu. There are no guarantees in life. Having spent my youth in air raid drills in case the communists dropped atomic weapons on us. I scratch and claw for every day. It rushes faster and faster every day. My Dad said it goes faster every year. Thanks Dad, that gives me great confidence. I already can barely handle it. But I'll try hard to go on, as long as you are out there, my family, my friends, other members of the human family, my horses, etc. I have no illusions about the predetermination of nature: dust I once was and to dust I shall return. Sic transit gloria mundi. (Latin, did I forget to tell you about latin sometimes popping up here too? Gut Gott! I am a veritable bottomless abyss of linguistics. Or is that abysmal? Whichever.) Quem Deus vult perdere, prius dementat.