Rose's Cantina

In my third act, I will live in a state of grace, unshackled by the shame, insecurity and demons that have plagued me in the first two acts. I will reach higher, move faster and embrace all that is good in my life. And there is plenty good already. I must remind myself of that. In the third act, no animals or people will be harmed. I will live only on ideas. And tea and oranges that come all the way from China. I will reduce the chatter. I will change the channel. In the third act, I will heal the wounds I can, put salve on them and soothe them. There will be no tsunamis. Just still water. There will be no room for naysayers and detractors, the people who have made me feel small. Sorry is not a word for the third act. No regrets, just possibilities. I will surround myself with people who have love in their hearts and I will encourage others to join me on this path. The mistakes of the past will finally be put in tiny boxes marked "history" and set on a dusty s...

My friend Doris called me on Monday. She was in tears because her eighty-six-year-old dad was going into the hospital for emergency surgery to repair an aneurysm in his heart. The doctor told him his chances of survival were about twenty-five percent. Twenty-five percent. Wow, I thought, those are some pretty terrible odds. Those odds didn't include the possibility he would wake up with brain damage or paralysis or something equally awful. I wondered what was the point? When you're eighty-six, is it worth getting the procedure at all? Then I thought, snap out of it you selfish little elder-bigot . Just because a person is old doesn't mean they can't be as resilient as the rest of us. Of course, Ted's going through with it. He's as strong as men half his age. Or at least he was until recently. As it stands now, he can barely do anything without become completely fatigued. If this doesn't work, well, I guess from his standpoint, he thinks h...