“Dad,” he said, “I’ve had the best week of my life.”
“Impossible,” the father thought. “He’s been at a work camp all week. What’s he been doing that he enjoyed it? What’s been so great?”
“We’ve worked, and we’ve been busy, and those are fine, but … I haven’t thought about myself once. I think that is why I’ve had so much fun.”
Few people focus on making money in their later days. As the twilight of their time here approaches, people rarely look to boast of achievements or primp their appearance. They don’t lord official or material authority over others. People nearing the end tend to deal the questions within.
The deathbed turns a person’s thoughts to something higher. The old ways of the self fall to the side as eyes start searching for meaning, identity and purpose.
Wanting to do some more writing, I began to look for a laptop. Pen and paper can’t compare to a word processor for speed and easy storage. My friend knew this, and he came up with a free used IBM his nephew hoped to discard. It seemed like an answer to a prayer.
Then I pushed the power button. The machine for which I paid nothing appeared worth the cost. It posed huge problems to utility, not even having Microsoft Word. The old files needed deleting, and the operating systems moved slowly. I had to download a great deal of software to even begin doing simple writing.
Jesus said that he’s a king. The writers of the Hebrew scripture refer to God as a king, and write that he understands himself as such.
This compares to reading Dr. Seuss for me. A collapsible frink, a dawf or a foona-lagoona baboona is like a king to me: I’d know it only if someone pointed it out. I’m American. We’re all equal in our own eyes. Thomas Jefferson put it on paper, and those who think their blood is bluer look like fools to us who know better.