To every thing there is a season...

Not long ago, one of my favorite authors disappeared. I don't know why, but it seemed like he just dropped off the face of the earth.

He had a terrific imagination, inventing new worlds and social structures in a kind of Utopian frenzy. His stories always carried a thread of sadness, however.

Visitation

I went back to visit my work friends today. Seems a little strange, having to be a visitor at the place where I used to work. It makes major changes in how you have to conduct yourself.

The next sound you hear...

... will be the air rushing in to fill the vacuum at my old workplace.

I got a call today from a friend and former co-worker, to let me know about a retirement luncheon for yet another former co-worker. My buddy, JimB came to work at about the same time I did, reaching his 30th year about three weeks ahead of me. He hadn't orginally intended to retire so soon, but he changed his mind recently.  In discussing it with him, he told me that the deciding factor is the length of his commute to work.

In 1985, he was transferred from his previous duty station to Atlanta. His family had deep roots in the home they already had, and he and his wife didn't want to move. As a result he has to traverse 75 miles each way, every day ever since. That is love, folks. The mystery to me is not that he tired of it, but why did it take so long?

JimB is an asset that will be missed.