I've been away so long that ...

I wasn't even sure this blog still existed. When I googled Pomegranate Tiger, the only results I saw were about the heavy metal rock band by the same name that I talked about a few years back in my post here.  They've obviously done a good job of social media branding!

It's been so long that I have no idea who might read this. Perhaps this will become my dear diary, confessions and musings of a late life life. Maybe it doesn't matter.

My reasons for being away aren't that interesting. In brief: I fell out with writing. I thought about it, but didn't do it. I don't regret it.

Instead, I've done and experienced other things: renovated a kitchen, rediscovered a love of Shakespeare and crochet (in that order), discovered Doctor Who (new and classic), begun receiving government pensions (CPP and OAS), visited London (and didn't want to leave), saw a live RSC production of Richard II with David Tennant, visited Paris and had croissants at a sidewalk cafe, stayed in Venice and rode a gondola (though the water buses are more fun), had some great family trips with sons and significant others, and come to terms with the gut (as opposed to intellectual) acceptance that most of my years are behind me and that it's okay.

Looking back, I've had fun. It hasn't all been fun, of course, but the not-fun parts I'll save for another day. 

I've often thought about making a bucket list -- and it might be fine for some people --but I'm not sure I'd want to look back on it one day and regret not checking everything off.  I'd rather just keep on doing and seeing what I enjoy for as long as I'm able. No regrets left on the table, so to speak.

More Ramblings:
Things I've come to accept, but not necessarily like:

• The Canucks probably won't win a Stanley Cup in my lifetime 
• Cuts, bruises, and minor injuries take weeks instead of days to heal 
• Some aches and pains may never go away completely (I keep a good supply of ibuprofen on hand at all times) 
• My 3 to 5 mile runs have become walks 
• There will always be stupid people and no amount of logic or reasonable debate will change them. 
• Adult-child role reversal; whereby your adult children think they need to check up on you and make sure you made it home okay, landed safely, know how to get to xyz. etc.   

Just because ...

The Pillar Box

by G. K. Chesterton

A stranger garbed outlandishly
Came to our town beside the sea
“In mine own city” thus he said—
“There stands a little man in red
Who in the steep street standeth still
And morn and even eats his fill
Of tales untold, wild truths and lies
Small wars and secret chivalries
You may walk round him as may be
He guards his secrets soldierly—
A quaint red tower not three feet wide
And chased the liar with a crowd
And thousands of men's souls inside.”

Some, hearing mocked the tale aloud
Some smote and scattered cruelly
His blood upon the stones, but he
Still wore his happy sunset smile
Till after rambling many a mile
He met a man beside the sea
Who answered very quietly
“A common pillar-box: accord
I ready credence” at that word
The gentle stranger frail of limb
In still scorn laid a hand on him
With eyes that blazed like magic stones
And shook him like a bag of bones.

. . . I found a snippet of this poem while reading a post here and had to track down the entire poem.  I love the lyrical cadence and flow, the imagery, and simple classical style. It's a refreshing change to the in-your-face, blunt, stark, dystopia that I seem to be reading these days (not to mention the dire state of political discourse of our neighbours to the south, but I digress).- EL