SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Perhaps you have all heard about the sword of Damocles, but of course there might be some social slackers in the group so I better tell the story. In ancient days, when kings were in charge, there was Damocles, a court toady who bitterly complained about his lowly status compared to his liege master. “Why should one man have so much?” he complained and “Why him, and why not me?” “It isn't fair,” and so on. Of course, the king, whose spies were everywhere heard about him and summoned him to court for a reckoning.

“So,” his majesty said, “you believe that I live a life of comfort and pleasure.”

Poor Damocles hemmed and hawed but the poor fellow knew he was had and he admitted all.

The king frowned, mumbled and finally spoke.

“ I have a deal for you. You become king for a day and if you like it you can be king for the rest of your life.” Here the king frowned. “But if you don't like it, if you resign, you will never gain complain about me and the so called unfairness of your station. Do you accept?” This last was offered in a somewhat menacing tone.

Damocles, astonished, knew better than to refuse the offer and even thought it might be a neat way to build up resources for his retirement. He bowed. “Your majesty, please remove yourself from, ahem, my throne.

The king's laugh was a bit cruel. “No, you get started tomorrow at 6AM”

“Six AM,” Damocles responded, “that seems a bit early, when I'm king, I'll set my own hours.”

“While I am still king, you will obey my orders. Now, get out of here!”

Damocles wife, of course, did not believe him and they both fretted about how they would get him up so early, but with such a marvelous prize in the offing they managed the task. A bit nervous when he arrived at the palace he soon understood that he would not lose his head. Everywhere, the guards, courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, the household staff even to the lowest muck shoveler all bowed to him. With much ceremony he was taken to the throne room and there it was, the seat of power. He approached it, sat and smiled benignly upon his people, yes his people when the former king approached,

“Sire,” said their erstwhile leader, “welcome to your new state in the realm. But, sire, may I urge that you look up and see what dangles over your head?”

This was such an absurd suggestion that an uncertain Damocles looked up and saw a sword, a sharp, heavy, pointed sword hanging over him, and it hung by a horse hair.

“Take it away,” he shrieked, “take it away. What monstrous jest is this. I am king, take it away.” Horrified, he saw no one moved to obey him

“Alas, my lord,” said the former king, “it is part of the job, the sword belongs to you now. Well, you won’t be surprised to learn that Damocles quit on the spot.

Don't bother to look up the reality of Damocles and his king; it’s just a story, but of course with a point. Scholars argue that it tells us that jealousy does not pay, that envy distracts from our real tasks in life. This is a familiar theme. American Indians are said to counsel not to complain about another unless you have walked a mile in his moccasins. One of the king Louis' was said to envy peasants because they had nothing like the worries that bedeviled him. (Did that French roi ever volunteer to be a peasant?History does not tell us.)

There is another perspective which makes more sense to me. The other day, as is his wont, my nephrologist inspected my urine and discovered red blood cells. He did not seem happy and said that my kidney problems could not account for such and urged that I hie myself to a urologist. In the process of discussion, he muttered something about bone marrow cancer. Ugh.

I read somewhere that the aging process is like distant thunder during a picnic. You are enjoying yourself and discount the warning, but the threat of a storm is ever growing. As the thunder gets louder its warning seems more imminent and it is evident you cannot avoid it. The clever among you will understand that this is a metaphor for death as is the sword that comes with the job.

When I asked the nephrologist the significance of such findings, he said that if I were a young man, it was almost meaningless, but with a man of my age you never know. And again, he urged a visit to a urologist.

Well, yes I suppose that I am in my last decade; anything thing that goes wrong with my body might very well be the last thing that goes wrong. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow and the red blood cells might be a harbinger of my departure. It's enough to give a man pause.

None of us, ego oriented creatures that we are are cheerful about the reality that we will disappear. Heaven and hell are ways to keep us alive forever; who wouldn't accept hell rather than permanent destruction? As far as I know, all societies have figured out ways to ignore the reality of death.

So, how did I handle the possibility that the storms arrival is sooner than I prefer. I reminded myself that the universe did not appear for the whole purpose of my immortality, that death is part of it all and that at the instant of death I will forget it all.

Should, at a heavenly way-station, I am rated

To learn in which direction I am fated

And should it be hell

I'll handle it well

But nothing like that is expected

FALSE ALARM! The hair suspending the sword remains intact. Huzzah!

 SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Perhaps you have all heard about the sword of Damocles, but of course there might be some social slackers in the group so I better tell the story. In ancient days, when kings were in charge, there was Damocles, a court toady who bitterly complained about his lowly status compared to his liege master. “Why should one man have so much?” he complained and “Why him, and why not me?” “It isn't fair,” and so on. Of course, the king, whose spies were everywhere heard about him and summoned him to court for a reckoning.

“So,” his majesty said, “you believe that I live a life of comfort and pleasure.”

Poor Damocles hemmed and hawed but the poor fellow knew he was had and he admitted all.

The king frowned, mumbled and finally spoke.

“ I have a deal for you. You become king for a day and if you like it you can be king for the rest of your life.” Here the king frowned. “But if you don't like it, if you resign, you will never gain complain about me and the so called unfairness of your station. Do you accept?” This last was offered in a somewhat menacing tone.

Damocles, astonished, knew better than to refuse the offer and even thought it might be a neat way to build up resources for his retirement. He bowed. “Your majesty, please remove yourself from, ahem, my throne.

The king's laugh was a bit cruel. “No, you get started tomorrow at 6AM”

“Six AM,” Damocles responded, “that seems a bit early, when I'm king, I'll set my own hours.”

“While I am still king, you will obey my orders. Now, get out of here!”

Damocles wife, of course, did not believe him and they both fretted about how they would get him up so early, but with such a marvelous prize in the offing they managed the task. A bit nervous when he arrived at the palace he soon understood that he would not lose his head. Everywhere, the guards, courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, the household staff even to the lowest muck shoveler all bowed to him. With much ceremony he was taken to the throne room and there it was, the seat of power. He approached it, sat and smiled benignly upon his people, yes his people when the former king approached,

“Sire,” said their erstwhile leader, “welcome to your new state in the realm. But, sire, may I urge that you look up and see what dangles over your head?”

This was such an absurd suggestion that an uncertain Damocles looked up and saw a sword, a sharp, heavy, pointed sword hanging over him, and it hung by a horse hair.

“Take it away,” he shrieked, “take it away. What monstrous jest is this. I am king, take it away.” Horrified, he saw no one moved to obey him

“Alas, my lord,” said the former king, “it is part of the job, the sword belongs to you now. Well, you won’t be surprised to learn that Damocles quit on the spot.

Don't bother to look up the reality of Damocles and his king; it’s just a story, but of course with a point. Scholars argue that it tells us that jealousy does not pay, that envy distracts from our real tasks in life. This is a familiar theme. American Indians are said to counsel not to complain about another unless you have walked a mile in his moccasins. One of the king Louis' was said to envy peasants because they had nothing like the worries that bedeviled him. (Did that French roi ever volunteer to be a peasant?History does not tell us.)

There is another perspective which makes more sense to me. The other day, as is his wont, my nephrologist inspected my urine and discovered red blood cells. He did not seem happy and said that my kidney problems could not account for such and urged that I hie myself to a urologist. In the process of discussion, he muttered something about bone marrow cancer. Ugh.

I read somewhere that the aging process is like distant thunder during a picnic. You are enjoying yourself and discount the warning, but the threat of a storm is ever growing. As the thunder gets louder its warning seems more imminent and it is evident you cannot avoid it. The clever among you will understand that this is a metaphor for death as is the sword that comes with the job.

When I asked the nephrologist the significance of such findings, he said that if I were a young man, it was almost meaningless, but with a man of my age you never know. And again, he urged a visit to a urologist.

Well, yes I suppose that I am in my last decade; anything thing that goes wrong with my body might very well be the last thing that goes wrong. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow and the red blood cells might be a harbinger of my departure. It's enough to give a man pause.

None of us, ego oriented creatures that we are are cheerful about the reality that we will disappear. Heaven and hell are ways to keep us alive forever; who wouldn't accept hell rather than permanent destruction? As far as I know, all societies have figured out ways to ignore the reality of death.

So, how did I handle the possibility that the storms arrival is sooner than I prefer. I reminded myself that the universe did not appear for the whole purpose of my immortality, that death is part of it all and that at the instant of death I will forget it all.

Should, at a heavenly way-station, I am rated

To learn in which direction I am fated

And should it be hell

I'll handle it well

But nothing like that is expected

FALSE ALARM! The hair suspending the sword remains intact. Huzzah!

 SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Perhaps you have all heard about the sword of Damocles, but of course there might be some social slackers in the group so I better tell the story. In ancient days, when kings were in charge, there was Damocles, a court toady who bitterly complained about his lowly status compared to his liege master. “Why should one man have so much?” he complained and “Why him, and why not me?” “It isn't fair,” and so on. Of course, the king, whose spies were everywhere heard about him and summoned him to court for a reckoning.

“So,” his majesty said, “you believe that I live a life of comfort and pleasure.”

Poor Damocles hemmed and hawed but the poor fellow knew he was had and he admitted all.

The king frowned, mumbled and finally spoke.

“ I have a deal for you. You become king for a day and if you like it you can be king for the rest of your life.” Here the king frowned. “But if you don't like it, if you resign, you will never gain complain about me and the so called unfairness of your station. Do you accept?” This last was offered in a somewhat menacing tone.

Damocles, astonished, knew better than to refuse the offer and even thought it might be a neat way to build up resources for his retirement. He bowed. “Your majesty, please remove yourself from, ahem, my throne.

The king's laugh was a bit cruel. “No, you get started tomorrow at 6AM”

“Six AM,” Damocles responded, “that seems a bit early, when I'm king, I'll set my own hours.”

“While I am still king, you will obey my orders. Now, get out of here!”

Damocles wife, of course, did not believe him and they both fretted about how they would get him up so early, but with such a marvelous prize in the offing they managed the task. A bit nervous when he arrived at the palace he soon understood that he would not lose his head. Everywhere, the guards, courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, the household staff even to the lowest muck shoveler all bowed to him. With much ceremony he was taken to the throne room and there it was, the seat of power. He approached it, sat and smiled benignly upon his people, yes his people when the former king approached,

“Sire,” said their erstwhile leader, “welcome to your new state in the realm. But, sire, may I urge that you look up and see what dangles over your head?”

This was such an absurd suggestion that an uncertain Damocles looked up and saw a sword, a sharp, heavy, pointed sword hanging over him, and it hung by a horse hair.

“Take it away,” he shrieked, “take it away. What monstrous jest is this. I am king, take it away.” Horrified, he saw no one moved to obey him

“Alas, my lord,” said the former king, “it is part of the job, the sword belongs to you now. Well, you won’t be surprised to learn that Damocles quit on the spot.

Don't bother to look up the reality of Damocles and his king; it’s just a story, but of course with a point. Scholars argue that it tells us that jealousy does not pay, that envy distracts from our real tasks in life. This is a familiar theme. American Indians are said to counsel not to complain about another unless you have walked a mile in his moccasins. One of the king Louis' was said to envy peasants because they had nothing like the worries that bedeviled him. (Did that French roi ever volunteer to be a peasant?History does not tell us.)

There is another perspective which makes more sense to me. The other day, as is his wont, my nephrologist inspected my urine and discovered red blood cells. He did not seem happy and said that my kidney problems could not account for such and urged that I hie myself to a urologist. In the process of discussion, he muttered something about bone marrow cancer. Ugh.

I read somewhere that the aging process is like distant thunder during a picnic. You are enjoying yourself and discount the warning, but the threat of a storm is ever growing. As the thunder gets louder its warning seems more imminent and it is evident you cannot avoid it. The clever among you will understand that this is a metaphor for death as is the sword that comes with the job.

When I asked the nephrologist the significance of such findings, he said that if I were a young man, it was almost meaningless, but with a man of my age you never know. And again, he urged a visit to a urologist.

Well, yes I suppose that I am in my last decade; anything thing that goes wrong with my body might very well be the last thing that goes wrong. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow and the red blood cells might be a harbinger of my departure. It's enough to give a man pause.

None of us, ego oriented creatures that we are are cheerful about the reality that we will disappear. Heaven and hell are ways to keep us alive forever; who wouldn't accept hell rather than permanent destruction? As far as I know, all societies have figured out ways to ignore the reality of death.

So, how did I handle the possibility that the storms arrival is sooner than I prefer. I reminded myself that the universe did not appear for the whole purpose of my immortality, that death is part of it all and that at the instant of death I will forget it all.

Should, at a heavenly way-station, I am rated

To learn in which direction I am fated

And should it be hell

I'll handle it well

But nothing like that is expected

FALSE ALARM! The hair suspending the sword remains intact. Huzzah!

 SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Perhaps you have all heard about the sword of Damocles, but of course there might be some social slackers in the group so I better tell the story. In ancient days, when kings were in charge, there was Damocles, a court toady who bitterly complained about his lowly status compared to his liege master. “Why should one man have so much?” he complained and “Why him, and why not me?” “It isn't fair,” and so on. Of course, the king, whose spies were everywhere heard about him and summoned him to court for a reckoning.

“So,” his majesty said, “you believe that I live a life of comfort and pleasure.”

Poor Damocles hemmed and hawed but the poor fellow knew he was had and he admitted all.

The king frowned, mumbled and finally spoke.

“ I have a deal for you. You become king for a day and if you like it you can be king for the rest of your life.” Here the king frowned. “But if you don't like it, if you resign, you will never gain complain about me and the so called unfairness of your station. Do you accept?” This last was offered in a somewhat menacing tone.

Damocles, astonished, knew better than to refuse the offer and even thought it might be a neat way to build up resources for his retirement. He bowed. “Your majesty, please remove yourself from, ahem, my throne.

The king's laugh was a bit cruel. “No, you get started tomorrow at 6AM”

“Six AM,” Damocles responded, “that seems a bit early, when I'm king, I'll set my own hours.”

“While I am still king, you will obey my orders. Now, get out of here!”

Damocles wife, of course, did not believe him and they both fretted about how they would get him up so early, but with such a marvelous prize in the offing they managed the task. A bit nervous when he arrived at the palace he soon understood that he would not lose his head. Everywhere, the guards, courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, the household staff even to the lowest muck shoveler all bowed to him. With much ceremony he was taken to the throne room and there it was, the seat of power. He approached it, sat and smiled benignly upon his people, yes his people when the former king approached,

“Sire,” said their erstwhile leader, “welcome to your new state in the realm. But, sire, may I urge that you look up and see what dangles over your head?”

This was such an absurd suggestion that an uncertain Damocles looked up and saw a sword, a sharp, heavy, pointed sword hanging over him, and it hung by a horse hair.

“Take it away,” he shrieked, “take it away. What monstrous jest is this. I am king, take it away.” Horrified, he saw no one moved to obey him

“Alas, my lord,” said the former king, “it is part of the job, the sword belongs to you now. Well, you won’t be surprised to learn that Damocles quit on the spot.

Don't bother to look up the reality of Damocles and his king; it’s just a story, but of course with a point. Scholars argue that it tells us that jealousy does not pay, that envy distracts from our real tasks in life. This is a familiar theme. American Indians are said to counsel not to complain about another unless you have walked a mile in his moccasins. One of the king Louis' was said to envy peasants because they had nothing like the worries that bedeviled him. (Did that French roi ever volunteer to be a peasant?History does not tell us.)

There is another perspective which makes more sense to me. The other day, as is his wont, my nephrologist inspected my urine and discovered red blood cells. He did not seem happy and said that my kidney problems could not account for such and urged that I hie myself to a urologist. In the process of discussion, he muttered something about bone marrow cancer. Ugh.

I read somewhere that the aging process is like distant thunder during a picnic. You are enjoying yourself and discount the warning, but the threat of a storm is ever growing. As the thunder gets louder its warning seems more imminent and it is evident you cannot avoid it. The clever among you will understand that this is a metaphor for death as is the sword that comes with the job.

When I asked the nephrologist the significance of such findings, he said that if I were a young man, it was almost meaningless, but with a man of my age you never know. And again, he urged a visit to a urologist.

Well, yes I suppose that I am in my last decade; anything thing that goes wrong with my body might very well be the last thing that goes wrong. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow and the red blood cells might be a harbinger of my departure. It's enough to give a man pause.

None of us, ego oriented creatures that we are are cheerful about the reality that we will disappear. Heaven and hell are ways to keep us alive forever; who wouldn't accept hell rather than permanent destruction? As far as I know, all societies have figured out ways to ignore the reality of death.

So, how did I handle the possibility that the storms arrival is sooner than I prefer. I reminded myself that the universe did not appear for the whole purpose of my immortality, that death is part of it all and that at the instant of death I will forget it all.

Should, at a heavenly way-station, I am rated

To learn in which direction I am fated

And should it be hell

I'll handle it well

But nothing like that is expected

FALSE ALARM! The hair suspending the sword remains intact. Huzzah!

 SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Perhaps you have all heard about the sword of Damocles, but of course there might be some social slackers in the group so I better tell the story. In ancient days, when kings were in charge, there was Damocles, a court toady who bitterly complained about his lowly status compared to his liege master. “Why should one man have so much?” he complained and “Why him, and why not me?” “It isn't fair,” and so on. Of course, the king, whose spies were everywhere heard about him and summoned him to court for a reckoning.

“So,” his majesty said, “you believe that I live a life of comfort and pleasure.”

Poor Damocles hemmed and hawed but the poor fellow knew he was had and he admitted all.

The king frowned, mumbled and finally spoke.

“ I have a deal for you. You become king for a day and if you like it you can be king for the rest of your life.” Here the king frowned. “But if you don't like it, if you resign, you will never gain complain about me and the so called unfairness of your station. Do you accept?” This last was offered in a somewhat menacing tone.

Damocles, astonished, knew better than to refuse the offer and even thought it might be a neat way to build up resources for his retirement. He bowed. “Your majesty, please remove yourself from, ahem, my throne.

The king's laugh was a bit cruel. “No, you get started tomorrow at 6AM”

“Six AM,” Damocles responded, “that seems a bit early, when I'm king, I'll set my own hours.”

“While I am still king, you will obey my orders. Now, get out of here!”

Damocles wife, of course, did not believe him and they both fretted about how they would get him up so early, but with such a marvelous prize in the offing they managed the task. A bit nervous when he arrived at the palace he soon understood that he would not lose his head. Everywhere, the guards, courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, the household staff even to the lowest muck shoveler all bowed to him. With much ceremony he was taken to the throne room and there it was, the seat of power. He approached it, sat and smiled benignly upon his people, yes his people when the former king approached,

“Sire,” said their erstwhile leader, “welcome to your new state in the realm. But, sire, may I urge that you look up and see what dangles over your head?”

This was such an absurd suggestion that an uncertain Damocles looked up and saw a sword, a sharp, heavy, pointed sword hanging over him, and it hung by a horse hair.

“Take it away,” he shrieked, “take it away. What monstrous jest is this. I am king, take it away.” Horrified, he saw no one moved to obey him

“Alas, my lord,” said the former king, “it is part of the job, the sword belongs to you now. Well, you won’t be surprised to learn that Damocles quit on the spot.

Don't bother to look up the reality of Damocles and his king; it’s just a story, but of course with a point. Scholars argue that it tells us that jealousy does not pay, that envy distracts from our real tasks in life. This is a familiar theme. American Indians are said to counsel not to complain about another unless you have walked a mile in his moccasins. One of the king Louis' was said to envy peasants because they had nothing like the worries that bedeviled him. (Did that French roi ever volunteer to be a peasant?History does not tell us.)

There is another perspective which makes more sense to me. The other day, as is his wont, my nephrologist inspected my urine and discovered red blood cells. He did not seem happy and said that my kidney problems could not account for such and urged that I hie myself to a urologist. In the process of discussion, he muttered something about bone marrow cancer. Ugh.

I read somewhere that the aging process is like distant thunder during a picnic. You are enjoying yourself and discount the warning, but the threat of a storm is ever growing. As the thunder gets louder its warning seems more imminent and it is evident you cannot avoid it. The clever among you will understand that this is a metaphor for death as is the sword that comes with the job.

When I asked the nephrologist the significance of such findings, he said that if I were a young man, it was almost meaningless, but with a man of my age you never know. And again, he urged a visit to a urologist.

Well, yes I suppose that I am in my last decade; anything thing that goes wrong with my body might very well be the last thing that goes wrong. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow and the red blood cells might be a harbinger of my departure. It's enough to give a man pause.

None of us, ego oriented creatures that we are are cheerful about the reality that we will disappear. Heaven and hell are ways to keep us alive forever; who wouldn't accept hell rather than permanent destruction? As far as I know, all societies have figured out ways to ignore the reality of death.

So, how did I handle the possibility that the storms arrival is sooner than I prefer. I reminded myself that the universe did not appear for the whole purpose of my immortality, that death is part of it all and that at the instant of death I will forget it all.

Should, at a heavenly way-station, I am rated

To learn in which direction I am fated

And should it be hell

I'll handle it well

But nothing like that is expected

FALSE ALARM! The hair suspending the sword remains intact. Huzzah!

 SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Perhaps you have all heard about the sword of Damocles, but of course there might be some social slackers in the group so I better tell the story. In ancient days, when kings were in charge, there was Damocles, a court toady who bitterly complained about his lowly status compared to his liege master. “Why should one man have so much?” he complained and “Why him, and why not me?” “It isn't fair,” and so on. Of course, the king, whose spies were everywhere heard about him and summoned him to court for a reckoning.

“So,” his majesty said, “you believe that I live a life of comfort and pleasure.”

Poor Damocles hemmed and hawed but the poor fellow knew he was had and he admitted all.

The king frowned, mumbled and finally spoke.

“ I have a deal for you. You become king for a day and if you like it you can be king for the rest of your life.” Here the king frowned. “But if you don't like it, if you resign, you will never gain complain about me and the so called unfairness of your station. Do you accept?” This last was offered in a somewhat menacing tone.

Damocles, astonished, knew better than to refuse the offer and even thought it might be a neat way to build up resources for his retirement. He bowed. “Your majesty, please remove yourself from, ahem, my throne.

The king's laugh was a bit cruel. “No, you get started tomorrow at 6AM”

“Six AM,” Damocles responded, “that seems a bit early, when I'm king, I'll set my own hours.”

“While I am still king, you will obey my orders. Now, get out of here!”

Damocles wife, of course, did not believe him and they both fretted about how they would get him up so early, but with such a marvelous prize in the offing they managed the task. A bit nervous when he arrived at the palace he soon understood that he would not lose his head. Everywhere, the guards, courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, the household staff even to the lowest muck shoveler all bowed to him. With much ceremony he was taken to the throne room and there it was, the seat of power. He approached it, sat and smiled benignly upon his people, yes his people when the former king approached,

“Sire,” said their erstwhile leader, “welcome to your new state in the realm. But, sire, may I urge that you look up and see what dangles over your head?”

This was such an absurd suggestion that an uncertain Damocles looked up and saw a sword, a sharp, heavy, pointed sword hanging over him, and it hung by a horse hair.

“Take it away,” he shrieked, “take it away. What monstrous jest is this. I am king, take it away.” Horrified, he saw no one moved to obey him

“Alas, my lord,” said the former king, “it is part of the job, the sword belongs to you now. Well, you won’t be surprised to learn that Damocles quit on the spot.

Don't bother to look up the reality of Damocles and his king; it’s just a story, but of course with a point. Scholars argue that it tells us that jealousy does not pay, that envy distracts from our real tasks in life. This is a familiar theme. American Indians are said to counsel not to complain about another unless you have walked a mile in his moccasins. One of the king Louis' was said to envy peasants because they had nothing like the worries that bedeviled him. (Did that French roi ever volunteer to be a peasant?History does not tell us.)

There is another perspective which makes more sense to me. The other day, as is his wont, my nephrologist inspected my urine and discovered red blood cells. He did not seem happy and said that my kidney problems could not account for such and urged that I hie myself to a urologist. In the process of discussion, he muttered something about bone marrow cancer. Ugh.

I read somewhere that the aging process is like distant thunder during a picnic. You are enjoying yourself and discount the warning, but the threat of a storm is ever growing. As the thunder gets louder its warning seems more imminent and it is evident you cannot avoid it. The clever among you will understand that this is a metaphor for death as is the sword that comes with the job.

When I asked the nephrologist the significance of such findings, he said that if I were a young man, it was almost meaningless, but with a man of my age you never know. And again, he urged a visit to a urologist.

Well, yes I suppose that I am in my last decade; anything thing that goes wrong with my body might very well be the last thing that goes wrong. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow and the red blood cells might be a harbinger of my departure. It's enough to give a man pause.

None of us, ego oriented creatures that we are are cheerful about the reality that we will disappear. Heaven and hell are ways to keep us alive forever; who wouldn't accept hell rather than permanent destruction? As far as I know, all societies have figured out ways to ignore the reality of death.

So, how did I handle the possibility that the storms arrival is sooner than I prefer. I reminded myself that the universe did not appear for the whole purpose of my immortality, that death is part of it all and that at the instant of death I will forget it all.

Should, at a heavenly way-station, I am rated

To learn in which direction I am fated

And should it be hell

I'll handle it well

But nothing like that is expected

FALSE ALARM! The hair suspending the sword remains intact. Huzzah!

 SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Perhaps you have all heard about the sword of Damocles, but of course there might be some social slackers in the group so I better tell the story. In ancient days, when kings were in charge, there was Damocles, a court toady who bitterly complained about his lowly status compared to his liege master. “Why should one man have so much?” he complained and “Why him, and why not me?” “It isn't fair,” and so on. Of course, the king, whose spies were everywhere heard about him and summoned him to court for a reckoning.

“So,” his majesty said, “you believe that I live a life of comfort and pleasure.”

Poor Damocles hemmed and hawed but the poor fellow knew he was had and he admitted all.

The king frowned, mumbled and finally spoke.

“ I have a deal for you. You become king for a day and if you like it you can be king for the rest of your life.” Here the king frowned. “But if you don't like it, if you resign, you will never gain complain about me and the so called unfairness of your station. Do you accept?” This last was offered in a somewhat menacing tone.

Damocles, astonished, knew better than to refuse the offer and even thought it might be a neat way to build up resources for his retirement. He bowed. “Your majesty, please remove yourself from, ahem, my throne.

The king's laugh was a bit cruel. “No, you get started tomorrow at 6AM”

“Six AM,” Damocles responded, “that seems a bit early, when I'm king, I'll set my own hours.”

“While I am still king, you will obey my orders. Now, get out of here!”

Damocles wife, of course, did not believe him and they both fretted about how they would get him up so early, but with such a marvelous prize in the offing they managed the task. A bit nervous when he arrived at the palace he soon understood that he would not lose his head. Everywhere, the guards, courtiers, ladies-in-waiting, the household staff even to the lowest muck shoveler all bowed to him. With much ceremony he was taken to the throne room and there it was, the seat of power. He approached it, sat and smiled benignly upon his people, yes his people when the former king approached,

“Sire,” said their erstwhile leader, “welcome to your new state in the realm. But, sire, may I urge that you look up and see what dangles over your head?”

This was such an absurd suggestion that an uncertain Damocles looked up and saw a sword, a sharp, heavy, pointed sword hanging over him, and it hung by a horse hair.

“Take it away,” he shrieked, “take it away. What monstrous jest is this. I am king, take it away.” Horrified, he saw no one moved to obey him

“Alas, my lord,” said the former king, “it is part of the job, the sword belongs to you now. Well, you won’t be surprised to learn that Damocles quit on the spot.

Don't bother to look up the reality of Damocles and his king; it’s just a story, but of course with a point. Scholars argue that it tells us that jealousy does not pay, that envy distracts from our real tasks in life. This is a familiar theme. American Indians are said to counsel not to complain about another unless you have walked a mile in his moccasins. One of the king Louis' was said to envy peasants because they had nothing like the worries that bedeviled him. (Did that French roi ever volunteer to be a peasant?History does not tell us.)

There is another perspective which makes more sense to me. The other day, as is his wont, my nephrologist inspected my urine and discovered red blood cells. He did not seem happy and said that my kidney problems could not account for such and urged that I hie myself to a urologist. In the process of discussion, he muttered something about bone marrow cancer. Ugh.

I read somewhere that the aging process is like distant thunder during a picnic. You are enjoying yourself and discount the warning, but the threat of a storm is ever growing. As the thunder gets louder its warning seems more imminent and it is evident you cannot avoid it. The clever among you will understand that this is a metaphor for death as is the sword that comes with the job.

When I asked the nephrologist the significance of such findings, he said that if I were a young man, it was almost meaningless, but with a man of my age you never know. And again, he urged a visit to a urologist.

Well, yes I suppose that I am in my last decade; anything thing that goes wrong with my body might very well be the last thing that goes wrong. Mighty oaks from little acorns grow and the red blood cells might be a harbinger of my departure. It's enough to give a man pause.

None of us, ego oriented creatures that we are are cheerful about the reality that we will disappear. Heaven and hell are ways to keep us alive forever; who wouldn't accept hell rather than permanent destruction? As far as I know, all societies have figured out ways to ignore the reality of death.

So, how did I handle the possibility that the storms arrival is sooner than I prefer. I reminded myself that the universe did not appear for the whole purpose of my immortality, that death is part of it all and that at the instant of death I will forget it all.

Should, at a heavenly way-station, I am rated

To learn in which direction I am fated

And should it be hell

I'll handle it well

But nothing like that is expected

FALSE ALARM! The hair suspending the sword remains intact. Huzzah!