“The end of the world is just five years away — and it always will be…“ Every Optimist
I’ve never been a doomsdayer and I’m not now, despite legitimate concerns over the current global health crisis. It’s always bumping around though, in the bingo hopper of my head, that life as we know it might turn on a dime — to begin the downward slide that takes us out as a species.
In 1971, just before a Cub Scout meeting, my mom, who was also my Den Mother, showed me a newspaper clipping — an article about an earthquake in Los Angeles a few days earlier. The story told of a young boy, also a Cub Scout, who had been killed collecting soda bottles to raise money to buy a new uniform. It wasn’t her intent to alarm me, but I got the sense that all of Los Angeles had been destroyed by that earthquake.
Long before the movie Independence Day, in early elementary school, I often wondered if large spaceships might show up to annihilate us. That’s what happens when your 3rd-grade teacher makes the class listen to The War Of The Worlds on Halloween day, rather than practice addition and subtraction problems.
Each morning, when I step outside to retrieve the newspaper, before I return to the house, I always do a 360° pirouette, looking up for the spaceship that might be preparing zap us into infinity. I do that at other times during the day too, no joke, I actually do.
In 2010, during the H1-N1 pandemic, I joked to a few clients that the Swine Flu couldn’t catch me because the Swine Flu wasn’t quick enough. After a short trip to Chicago to visit my daughter that year, I learned that the H1-N1 was not only quick enough, but had the stamina to go the distance with me. I ultimately won, but spent 11-days not ingesting a single calorie, and had a fever which hovered around 102° for over a week. The world did a good job keeping it at bay, but I had first-hand knowledge of what to expect if millions of people were exposed to it.
Today I live in Fallbrook California, less than a mile from the back gate of Camp Pendleton Marine Base. Part of living adjacent to the base means that we hear waves of ordinance being detonated regularly, often so loud that windows, walls, and pictures on those walls shake. Every-so-often there will be an explosion hard enough and loud enough that, no matter how well conditioned I am to think it’s Pendleton, I still run to the nearest window looking for the mushroom cloud that came courtesy of North Korea or Russia. So far, so good.
When I was a kid, my dad placed a hand-written note on the bulletin board of my bedroom. It was my father’s liberty with the words of Rudyard Kipling, and it read precisely as follows.
“If you can keep your head when those about you are losing their’s, then my son, you are a man…”
I can’t say I’ve been perfect with those instructions, but the older I get, the more I find value in trying, pandemics included.
This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb
This Week By The Numbers…
Bikes Ridden: 6
15.0 mph avg
11 hours 27 minutes seat time
Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there’s this from The Hoodoo Gurus. Enjoy…