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Labor Day weekend is approaching in the USA. In my neck of the woods it's the last time the sunset will go beyond 8pm until next April. The seasons are pretty well-defined here and for me it's a toss up between the entrance into fall or spring as to which time of year is my favorite.
No matter what time of year it is, the drivers here are terrible. I read a stat once that something like 75% of us think we're above average drivers, but there is no way some of these people put themselves in this category. It seems like every time I go out I witness yet another bizarre decision being made by another driver. This week even my lovely bride experienced some erratic craziness bad enough that she pulled over to help. Until she saw the look on the drivers face and decided to keep going.
This event happened not too long after we attended the funeral of a beloved neighbor. She made it through over 90 trips around the sun, living a full life before we ever met. Her husband is still with us, but moved into a home because his memory is starting to fail. He's still sharp in his own way, though. When my lovely bride said to him, "We loved Diane," without missing a beat he said, "That makes two of us!"
At this time we're preparing for the wedding of our middle child in a couple of weeks. Big life things. Births, deaths, weddings, are all around us. The wonders of life abound.
As if on cue, a friend sends me a photo of an obituary in The Economist for Albert Woodfox, titled, "What Freedom Means." Albert's life was quite different from my neighbor's, but similar in the sense they are both remembered for what they did to improve the lives of their fellow humans. Exemplary men and women for others, as the Jesuit priest Father Pedro Arrupe said.
I doubt my neighbor Diane screamed obscenities at other drivers, but she probably thought some. Albert definitely said something.
There's hope for me yet.
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