The earth has just completed its 62nd revolution
around the sun since I was born. While it was busy tossing about polar
vortexes, defrosting the poles and shifting its tectonic plates, I learned that
I love the heat and humidity of central Florida and that Hilton Head Island,
while beautiful, is not consistently warm enough for winter tennis. Unless you
are Canadian.
I wandered Savanna’s Spanish-moss decorated streets, walked
softly through Bonaventure Cemetery under a full moon, tiptoed fearfully past
alligators sunning themselves along a too-narrow trail in Paynes Prairie, marveled
at the rise and fall of John Ringling and the beauty of his Sarasota estate and
circus museum, and happily discovered that clay tennis courts play slowly
enough that I can hit a topspin backhand. I published the second of my Imhotep novels, completed writing a
third and began plotting a fourth.
More importantly I enjoyed all this in the loving company of
my wife, found time - never enough - to proudly admire the accomplishments of
my children, and kept in too-fleeting contact with my extended family and my
friends.
Although I would never claim to have firm footing, I picture
myself leaning into the swirl of the earth’s spin as it hurtles through the
ever expanding universe on another trek around our star. I can’t wait to see
what this circuit reveals.
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