The End is Near

In my city, if a tree drops three leaves in the middle of summer when it shouldn’t drop leaves at all, a big truck and boom will be on it like drool on a baby by the next morning and down she goes. In the country, a few miles north of my town, stands this stately old beggar, not much to show for a summer’s growing season and maybe not much at all for the past few summers. And yet there she stands, waiting till the day nature sends some lighting and wind to lay her low. No farmer or municipal team has seen the need to hasten the inevitable. There is a dignity in that old skeleton. No birds’ nests any more, no children climbing to the top. But a life well lived and a monument to the beauty of Creation. Well done, good and faithful servant! May I see you in my travels another time or two. JH

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.