Deadlines

I’m stopped at the intersection of Treeline and Colonial Boulevard thinking of turning left. Sound familiar? If not, try it at 7:30 Monday morning.

The traffic line is stopped dead, like in a dead line.

After safely home 2 hours later I made some phone calls to pay bills and make a reservation for a Resturant down town. My last call was to an insurance company to check on my claim for a roof replacement caused by the most recent hurricane. After listening to static filled Gershwin music my line went dead. Another sort of dead line.

I was musing about my distant past as an Alter Boy while sipping my Starbucks French Roast with todays Wall Street Journal nearby. A story about the passing of an unknown “celebrity” was mentioned on page five. I served at the funeral Mass of many deceased parish members and then went to the Cemetary in a long line of cars. A dead line again, of a morbid sort.

As a retiree of nearly 20 years the idea of a “deadline” in the usual sense during my working life has become foggy at best and behind an opaque cloud most of the time. What on earth are you talking about? I can wait forever if I want.

“I’m sorry,Sue”, I told my wife just this morning, I have a deadline to meet before I attend the writers group at 2:00 PM sharp, Today. Whew. I made the deadline. The first one made in awhile.