The First Hundred Years Are The Hardest.
I met a man today. I would have liked to have talked to him a while longer. I was on my way to work. Stopped at Caseys to get a pizza and a pop and there he was. A handsome man. Face, clear skin, smooth as a baby's butt. I did make some quick small talk while waiting in line. He said to me, "the first hundred years are the hardest." Huh? Well he has 13 years to go, he said. I say, "you look great. You have stayed out of the sun." He says, "no, young lady. I was in Germany in WW2." OK, quick in my mind I am thinking, what does this have to do with the sun? Then he says. "True story. I quit smoking in the 3rd grade." Okay then.
Then he is starting to talk about his love that he used to have of his country. He said "We have lost." At that I so wanted to tell him, no we haven't. We are fighting to save it. But I did not have time. I said as I was paying for my stuff, "I have to get to work."
He said he had an intestinal virus and had cancer. He said he beat the cancer, and this intestinal thing can not stop him. I believe it won't. The last thing he told me was, "I had two sons. They are gone now. My only regret in life is that I worked so many long hours and never had time for what was really important to me."
I cried on the way to work.
