My parents both lived well into their 90s. Both died closer to 100 than to 90.

My dad didn’t retire and transfer his small restaurat supply business to a longtime employee until the end of 1998, weeks after his 85th birthday. He took overnight fishing trips on his 28′ fiberglass fishing boat that had once belonged to Duke Kahanamoku for most of another decade, enabled by a younger crew that handled the boat while my dad went along for the ride.

I used assume that the combination of their excellent genes provided a layer of protection that mere mortals didn’t have, which meant that I would be likely to follow them into a similarly long life.

Silly me.

I should have known this was a far too simplistic view of how our bodies work!

I’m still 16-months short of my 80th birthday, and six years short of my dad’s retirement age.

And now I find myself skating on the thin edge of mortality with a potentially (but not necessarily) life-threatening malady that I’m trying to beat by seeking out top-notch cutting-edge medical treatment in San Francisco. I’ve become a medical commuter.

I’m rolling with it, and right now feel better than any time in the past 6-weeks.

Back on March 16, I announced that I would be taking a “leave of absence” for medical reasons. That has proven more difficult than I thought. Although I’ve tried to press concerns about current events into my mental background, I’ve still found plenty of things to share that might otherwise appear prosaic, but now feel very special–sunrise on a rainy day, the sparkle of sunlight in a cats eye, bits of Hawaii memorabilia found in my files, ginger blossoms along our driveway, stories worth sharing from times past. Small pieces of life as it moves along.

I do appreciate all your positive vibes, and am maintaining an optomistic attitude as we move forward a step at a time.