Once upon a time, you needed an eight-track device to play music in your car. Long before music became a push-button auto accessory, I owned and played an eight-track recording of an Australian group singing “The Sloth.”
Lyrics told you the sloth—hanging upside down in the tree, watching the world go by—lacked ambition.
I could climb the very highest Himalayas…I could learn to cook, I could catch a crook, write a book….the door’s not shut on my genius, I just don’t have the time.
In year 2000, I found time to fly with a tour group to Tibet. Our Chinese airline plane flew over the Himalaya mountains. Want to see my watercolor sketch?
Year 1963, I got instructions in Dutch-oven-cooking. I blame microwave ovens for making me give up cooking over a campfire.
Year 1964, spent some evenings reporting the local police news. Never caught a crook on my news beat.
But when I turned 86 years, the door still wasn’t shut. Most of what I had left was time. No excuse remained, so I wrote a book. Published. Drafted three more manuscripts and am editing my historical fiction novel. Readers will decide if the door is shut on my genius.
Photo by Javier Mazzeo on Unsplash
