Oh, Noes: Winding Down

It’s time for me to wind down the website. Past time. I held on too long because it had cost me too much in pain and psychic blood at the hands of the jacobin newsroom union that destroyed the once-great Chicago newspaper that I loved. And I loved it for those decades and decades.

But  I’ve run my race. Now it is time for me to go. Past time. I didn’t want to consider it once. I was afraid. I wouldn’t even dare brush up against it.

Especially when clinging  rather desperately to some old man dreams of myself as Laertes in his garden, an old man still hoping  to prove his worth as the warrior he once had been, still insisting he had spears left to throw.

But I’m old now. There are no spears.  Five strokes in three years convinced me. After that wonderful Indian Summer that we just had, the sky grew cold and  I finally came face to face with it: Betty explained the math. Five strokes in three years, she said, And you can still speak, you can still read and use a search engine, you can read Victor Davis Hanson and Plato, you can still discuss the great ideas.

But another stroke? I didn’t need any further convincing. I couldn’t contemplate the alternatives.