There’s little that incenses me anymore about the world situation. What we do to the planet, and ourselves as a species, was once sufficiently ire-inducing as to provoke angry responses on Sparrow Chat’s pages, that left little doubt as to the opinion of this writer for his fellow human beings.
Or, at least, a certain percentage of them.
I’m not sure if it’s simply life’s orbital swing passing three score years that tempers the emotion, but I’ve discovered of late that no longer can I become angry and frustrated when the news media gushes forth with horrific tales of war and strife, poverty and famine, gross political greed, or even oil companies finally proving beyond any reasonable shadow of doubt they have the capability to destroy our environment with no outside assistance whatever.
Maybe it’s the knowledge, finally realized, that apart from some cataclysmic event like a nuclear holocaust, or on a more personal level, a fatal assault by a Sparrow Chat reader holding a grudge (and possibly an AK47), there’s nothing much that can happen on the world stage at my time of life likely to have a major personal impact.
I already appreciate that this is something of a selfish reaction, so there’s little point you all screaming out, “But, what about the rest of us?”
Frankly, my dears – and to anyone under sixty this may well sound original – I don’t give a damn.
Which raises the question, I suppose, of what is to become of Sparrow Chat. After all, for some seven years this blog has been my personal venting machine – my very own Eyjafjallajokull. Now that the desire to blow my top at every news summary has subsided to little more than a cocked eyebrow and an additional glass of Château de Chasselas, is this literary fumarole about to expire?
I hope not. With life’s long road to retirement almost run there are certainly going to be changes, not least a move within twelve months to Michigan’s Upper Peninsular and a more rural lifestyle, with a quaint old farmhouse and forty acres to play around on.
I won’t stop writing. I may even find myself doing more, though whether Sparrow Chat will figure heavily in that only time will decree.
On thing is absolutely certain: oil spills, American imperialism, and any other madnesses that don’t directly impinge on my bit of Michigan wilderness, will not be on the agenda.
On the other hand, in this life is anything truly certain?
Filed under: It’s their world now