Sailing To Oblivion: October 2, 2017

Some mornings I feel downright ashamed of myself. This was one. I'll explain.

You see, sometimes I can’t sleep about three in the morning. I tend to worry.

What do I worry about? Oh, real important stuff like whether I’ll get around to mowing a strip of pasture on the farm before first frost. Yeah, and about the patch of roofing that needs repair, and a door latch that needs replacing. Then there is this magazine deadline due soon and I haven’t thought of a topic. And don’t forget the couch we need to move. Did the autopay work for the credit card this month? Gosh, I need to order some tractor parts. Should we economize to protect our retirement savings or splurge a bit? Neither of us has ever experienced bad health. What if it came now? We live pretty well, but what if suddenly we couldn’t, for some unknown reason?

I’ve even been known to imagine that I hear “the eternal footman snicker.”

Sometimes, with these heavy, yea almost epochal, concerns weighing on me, I simply get up and listen to music while I read or catch up with the news on the internet. After all, who could sleep with such cosmic concerns worming around in his mind? I must be carrying far, far more than my fair share of the weight of the world on my shoulders.

First, let’s get some Schubert playing on YouTube, just the thing for my beleaguered psyche.

Then I turn to the news, like this morning. The headlines flashed. I gasped, read more, and wept for my country. In short, I was ashamed.

Will it ever stop?