My father was a conservative — with a small c. He lived as a starving boy of the Depression his entire life, no matter how much he earned. He was afraid to live. Terrified all the things he earned would be the last things his times would drop into his world. If he could have horded life — and its girlfriend, Precious Time — he would have held them captive. Kidnapped them for the ransom of not being afraid they’d run out on him.
Alas, my father gone. Life and that girlfriend — Precious Time — caught the last train for the shore my father loved, but never fully walked. They left him behind. He’s in his grave, having left too much of himself unspent. My father now knows saving time hording life is folly.
Life isn’t made for hording. It’s built for doing. Time is made to get spent. Get conservative with either at the risk of wallowing on spiny-as-hell deathbed regrets.
Spend yourself. Afraid? Then ask, for what — and whom — am I conserving my life? My time? Knowing that Fear will steal both, right out from under us.
Michael Cogdill 