You know it already and not just from me: with contemporaries dying all around us (me), we feel like ducks in a shooting gallery. The shots are more frequent and more deadly now; it’s just a matter of time. Unlike our younger friends, we no longer have any illusions about being immortal. It’s a matter of certainly when, and the question that concerns us is how. As Woody Allen said, “I don’t mind dying, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” But while we wait to be surprised, or astonished, here’s a thought that hadn’t occurred to me.

A younger neighbour of mine (she’s only 80), just returned from Montreal where she attended the funeral of a very close friend she had known since school days, closer than usual, because the friend ended up being my friend’s son’s mother-in-law, part of the family. And I, as some of you may know, have recently mourned the loss of two very old friends, dating back 60 and 70 years. My neighbour said something I hadn’t thought of. She said it’s a new phase of our lives that we hadn’t encountered before, hadn’t, in fact, counted on. We have no previous experience to guide us; it’s new territory, emotional territory and intellectual as well.

A learning curve. At our age!

It’s not easy. I remember George Burns - do you remember George Burns? (January 20, 1896 – March 9, 1996) American comedian, actor, singer, and writer) Pause while I read the history of his career. Anyway, Burns died at the age of 100. I remember as he approached that age, he commented that he wasn’t worried about dying at age 100 because very few people die at that age. They do now, because they’ve been living longer.

So - a learning curve. We keep putting it off, don’t we? Few people ask the question that no one seems to be able to answer:

Why are we here?

The next question is asked a lot, and there are many different attempts to test it:

Is there life after death?

Any thoughts?

I wrote this before I wrote the following blog but I lost it and just found it now. This is actually an introduction to the chorus line-up below .

Do with it what you will.

So many days have flown by and so have my thoughts. I am doing and thinking too many disparate things and having trouble picking one to focus on long enough to write a blog. Also I get tired. Also the weather is divine and I am so happy to sit on my balcony with my freshly renovated furniture. Also my wifi resists powering through a brick wall to the balcony on the other side. So I remain uncommunicative though not thoughtless.

Stratford again:

I left you with All my Sons. Now I have added A Chorus Line to my attendance record this year. Traditionalist that I am, Renaissance woman that I am, Shakespeare aficionado that I am, I have long (mildly) resisted and (slightly) resented the introduction of musicals to the Stratford program each year, while acknowledging the necessity. Gilbert and Sullivan had been a given before I became a regular. I think it was John Neville, when he was a.d., who launched a tradition with two musicals with impeccable credentials: Kiss Me, Kate and The Boys from Syracuse. The box office returns justified the descent, if descent it was, to middle-to-lowbrow theatre.

My Mac will sleep soon if I don’t plug it in. Anon.

I may finish this today. Or not.

Obviously I didn't.

At least you know I’m still here.