Catching Up

I learn that an old acquaintance died last month. Not “friend” precisely; in fact I don't think we had actually spoken together for 20 years or more. But we had been on and off each others' radar since we were 18. We'd exchanged any number of small courtesies and he had done me some modest favors. At 18 I held him in awe, tinged with fear; my attitude matured into great respect later.  Although we hadn't been on the same track lately, he was enough of a public person that I had been able to follow his life pretty much until the end.  By all accounts he had loved ones, achievements, recognition.   A life well lived, I can report, and did I mention that he died of a stroke on a cruise ship? So, lucky in his living; also lucky in his dying as people of my age and stage are increasingly likely to note.

So, why am I surprised? Hard to say: perhaps because we hadn't been much in each other's company since 1979-80 and I still picture him in the full vigor of his 45-ness. You say that was 33 years ago? Let me check my watch. Oh dear...