Every fucking year I wake up on January 1st and consider myself lucky: lucky to be alive. Cannot give ‘er now like I gave ‘er as a young man mind you. Self knowledge like that is what I hope gets me past the age so many people I have admired over the years died. Too many of them only made it to their very early ‘70s.
The fucking pandemic prevented me from spending the afternoon how I like to on New Year’s Day - at the local standardbred track. Those horses have not raced locally since March. Imagine what that must be like for the many workers out of work in the industry since then. Toss in the thousands of local casino workers who have not spun a lucky wheel since then and you might get an idea how badly so many of them have been hurt in every way imaginable.
Being out of fucking work is a bad thing. As someone who works in the forest industry, as cyclical an industry as any, I have spent my share of time on the outside looking in. Missed so many pay cheques you would not thing I would enjoy a fucking plate of Kraft Dinner any more but I do.
Let’s hope the windows at the local racetracks re-open soon.