EVERY ATOMS OF YOU DOESN'T FADE AWAY

I have a theory. When you are young, you write either romantic or depressive poetry, or both. When you are old, you write stories of whatever genre. But you know you are getting really old when you start writing essays.

I did not start writing when I was young. In fact, I had a terrible time in school every time a teacher assigned a “composition” for homework. I still remember my first opus. It was for English class in the fifth grade. I was stumped, and I asked my mother for help. She told me to write about an incident that occurred when I was four years old.

Mom had sent Dad to buy some items at the grocery store, which was somewhat far from home, so he went in his car with yours truly tagging along. Two things happened. The first was that he parked his car on a side street, and when we were done shopping, we couldn’t find the car! We walked down the main thoroughfare, looking down each side street, to see if the car was there. As we did, I could notice my Dad becoming more and more worried. Now I realize that his agitation was due to this train of thought: The car was practically new, he still owed the entire loan to the bank, it was uninsured, and we were not even middle class. Paying for a car that one could not use when strapped for money was a daunting prospect. And then, the second thing happened. My Dad stepped on some really gooey dog poop… That was the last straw! He was fuming! But I, in my childish innocence, could not see why these things should be upsetting! He uttered a few choice remarks about the eternal fate of dogs and dog-owners, while he wiped his shoes off on a patch of nearby grass, and I started laughing. I laughed so hard, I had to sit down on the curb and hold my tummy! Eventually, we did find the car as we walked down the main thoroughfare in the opposite direction. I must clarify, though, that my first opus was much shorter and simpler than the above paragraph. Nevertheless, the teacher gave me an A. 

Nowadays I write about more serious things…

In college, I took degrees in antiquities, and literary and trans-cultural studies, and by my mid-thirties, I had published a number of serious articles in peer reviewed journals, had a series of very successful academic books in print, and had tenure at a very prestigious university. One day, I was contacted by the multi-billionaire philanthropist who had endowed the chair I held. I was very surprised at the call for an appointment, and wondered if the endowment was to cease and I’d have to seek tenure elsewhere…
Then, I carefully perused all the relevant passages from the Bible, and reviewed the Latin, Greek, and Syriac Church Fathers. Then, I looked at the “Atlas Obscura” and other sources, in order to compile an exhaustive list of all the places which had traditionally been considered entrances to Hell: caves, volcanic calderas, and fumaroles. After that, I felt I was in the proper frame of mind to embark on my research journey. There’s a saying, “he that would go to sea for pleasure, would go to Hell for a pastime,". Then I thought of travelling the whole world and find all those different things and make my journey of life a memorable one.

 

ACCESSORIES:

LINE OF ACTION: