Having reached the grand old age of 63, I find myself taking stock of my life. 63 is like 200 in hippie years. I've become an old man, something I never really saw coming. I never thought I'd make it this far. I've been an adventurer, a risk taker, a misfit, an outlaw and a non-conforming smartass - not traits that promise longevity. I've been robbed, beaten, gassed, busted and jailed at various points from coast to coast. I've survived two suicide attempts, several attempts on my life by others including one professional contract, two years of heroin addiction (no telling how many near overdoses), six and a half years in the Alabama prison system and a million broken hearts, both romantic and humanitarian.
I'm a little amazed, and grateful of course, that I've endured this long. Despite all the pathos and the pain, the failure, shame and misfortune, my woefully imperfect life has been a pageant, a spectacle, an utterly amazing thing. I don't say that to distinguish myself from the least of these our brethren...there are none less than I...the point is that all of our lives are amazing – in one way or another. Our very existence is beyond amazing.