Always the Last to Know.

There are times in your life when you discover things that are shocking, completely unexpected, just out of the clear blue sky. People manage these moments in different ways. We all have friends who are blessed with grace and poise, a calm demeanor able to absorb difficult news with control and dignity.

I’m not one of those people. My reaction to surprises is somewhat unpredictable. Sometimes I handle it well. Sometimes, I don’t. Once, when I discovered I had entered a glass walled elevator which immediately began racing up an inner wall of a hotel at an unconscionable speed, and then, after very unexpectedly passing through the ceiling and roof of the lobby, continued for no good reason up the outer wall of the hotel before finally stopping at a floor somewhere in the stratosphere, I had a near death experience. That was not one of my finer moments. It may have precipitated some alcohol abuse and a mild case of traumatic stress.

Despite having enjoyed skydiving, rock climbing and rappelling in my youth, in my old age I have developed a profound fear of heights that extends to death machines like glass walled elevators and most bridges. For some reason, I’m still cool with flying.

Surprises are not healthy, but the fact is they are part of life. There are some surprises that don’t have to be surprises. There are things that someone should tell you because they are apparent to them though they are invisible to you. This, I would think, is human decency.

Last week, I gave one of my novels to a friend who was helping me build a shed. This guy is much younger than me and doesn’t mind doing the lions share of the work. He’s good to work with, and in general a very good guy. He looked at my photograph on the back cover of the book, and commented “Wow! Look how young you are! You don’t have gray hair!”

Wait.

What?

My hair is gray? I thought it was the brownish blond hair.

No, my friend assured me. It is gray.

I’ve always been color blind, but you would think I could tell brown blond hair from gray hair. I can’t find a red ball lying in the green grass, but you would think I could tell what color my damn hair is.

When the hell did this happen? Landi says it happened over the last two or three years. You’d think she would have mentioned it to me.

So I’ve got gray hair. I wonder what other fun surprises life has in store for me.

Getting old isn’t for wussies…or the vain.

No surprises in here. Just some great laughs.