Tempo

Life is good as we celebrate 230 years as a nation. Employment is holding steady, the ecomony is growing, Congress is deadlocked as is customary and usual, and my oldest daughter turns 15 today. Yes, I will have a teenager driving on America's highways and byways this time next year. Most parents would be afraid, very afraid. I am not the least bit concerned. Kids have been driving since Ford invented the assembly line and most live to be adults. The chances of success are pretty good. Ah, the freedom of youth, a ribbon of possibilities stretching out to the invisible finish.

Some people want to try to hold back the hands of time and freeze the clock. Once you reach the age that things start to ache a little or that first wrinkle or gray hair shows up, you pine for the freshness of youth. That illusion that we are invincable and can go all night seems to be that magic elixir that drives some to get hair plugs, plastic surgery, and buy new expensive sports cars. That wealth of knowledge we have gained seems to ooze through our ears like pancake patter into a hot skillet. Maybe the desire for youth causes the same stupid acts of youth to be repeated. Our common sense is little more than a shadow on a cloudy day.

The mark of a mature person is that they can accept what life deals them and continue to play the game. Some hands are little more than sharp gravel on the path, a few give that sparkly issusion that we have found something worth keeping, but most of the cards in life are worth cherishing and provide the promise that today is good and tomorrow is better. It is only a promise and the actual happiness is really up to you but it is better than a poke in the eye or a flooded basement. Sorry for the heavy, metaphor laden prose above. What I really wanted to say is happy birthday America, with all of your promise and happy birthday Amanda with all my heart.

Icool

Cobb