When I’m 88?

So many well-known people have died in the last week – and I want to write about two of them, Gail Storm and Dr Jerri Nelson FitzGerald, but I have to organize my thoughts a bit before I do – I decided I to check to see if the author P.D. James was still alive and kicking. Apparently she is. I just finished reading her latest novel and noted with amazement that she was about 88 years old when she wrote it and is now somewhere in the neighborhood age 89. Can’t help but wondering if The Private Patient will be her last novel.

I seldom let the opinions of critics influence my own idea about a movie or book. I remember the movie Kiss Me Goodbye, with Sally Field, Jeff Bridges, and Jim Caan (who plays a ghost), which the critics hated – I mean, it got “one star” on the listing in the move guide. We loved it. Same with that Tom Selleck movie Her Alibi and the Popeye movie with Robin Williams. All movies that were panned by the critics that we enjoyed watching.

Some of the reviews I read of the novel as I was tracking down a link to attach to the image weren’t very kind, but so what?! I enjoyed the book anyway, her writing is exquisite. It was a good read. And in reference to my last post, I thought the BBC adaptations of her novels about Commander Adam Dalgliesh on Mystery!, which PBS used to broadcast, were top notch.

I am at the stage of life now when I actually do wonder how long I am going to live and what will be the nature of my death. We got some unhappy news in our family a few day ago that brings this even more sharply into focus. I wonder if I will make it to 88 years. I wonder what shape I will be in if I do. I just hope my mind will be sharp. Perhaps not sharp enough to write a novel, but sharp enough to write a blog? I already know I am a little dingy, I just hope I am not truly demented.