End of the Cove

 Welcome to the end of the cove. I've been here at the end of this street for almost twenty two years. My wife and I have been together almost 25. The kids, who are no longer kids, are twenty three and eighteen years of age. What this means is that their living memories all revolve around this old house at the end of the cove. We put a new roof on a couple of years ago, and that keeps the rain out along with the vinyl siding and upgraded windows that we managed to get sold somewhere along the line. We are on our third dog here and I comment on this because I note that the puppy we picked up a few months ago, is chewing on the interior door frames and marking them up pretty well. I guess you could say this old house at the end of the cove has been loved pretty hard by a lot of people and pets alike. 

I am in my late fifties, and as there are really no funds in the bank account to consider retirement, so am looking straight at mister death to blink while dying in harness at my job. I guess everybody has to come to grips with their own mortality in some way and this blog, whatever it may become, is my idea of putting a letter in a bottle and casting it out to sea.

I have a Bachelor's degree in English and an interest in writing. I won some small award from the gumtree literary festival in 1995. I published a collection of short stories and poems in 1996 and published a work of historical nonfiction through a division of Random House in 2002, for which I'm actually still receiving a couple dollars royalty every year. That's awesome! Right? My oldest son had a lady friend over and when I told her, I got a roylaty check for $5. she was positively underwhelmed. But hey, that's life at the end of the cove. I won't exactly say it's where dreams come to die, but it's definitely the end of the cove in suburbia. 

There was a time in my life when I held an FAA ramp badge and can remember going to as many as seven countries in the year. It seems that during COVID and perhaps more recently, I'm lucky if I make it more than 7 miles away from my Shangri-La, as the Kinks, would have called it in their song. I guess this happens as you get older. I talked to co-workers, and they have noticed the same -  the world seems to get smaller the older you get. It's part of the process. It's John the baptizer saying that he must diminish for someone greater to come.

Well, the oldest is pulling up in the driveway, returning home from work. I suppose I have things that I could be doing here at the end of the cove. If I can find my way back to this blog, I will continue to work on it with random thoughts and musings about music and faith and family and friends,  observations on life and maybe some tales of hunting and being afield in my younger days. Who knows what stories could spill now that the statute of limitations has past on all the mischief a want to be bass player may have had as a teenager.

I hope to see you around again and we can pull up an lcd panel and share some good times.