Paper Tigers

I noticed the Michael Jackson autopsy the other day.

You know what my impression was?  How small we are.

In the end, we simply leave these husks that we occupied for so long...and in the case of Mr. Jackson, we are reduced to an accounting of scars, tattoos, chemicals, and sundry measures. 

136 pounds.  Can you imagine?  So tiny. 

If we're not careful, we can make too much of ourselves, no?  Sure, the Jackson estate will generate $100,000,000 in new revenue in the next 12 months...but the progenitor is gone. 

Throughout the course of our lives, we are this, that, and the other thing.  We may build fortresses, armaments, or empires.  But in the end, it's all just rubble held together by water and sand.

This past weekend, our precious daughter drew two pictures, the first a toothy chipmunk, the latter a trumpeting elephant.  Despite my bias, each is irrefutably adorable: Chipmunk&Elephant.pdf (71.63 kb)

Let's make a pact: We shall not take ourselves too seriously, however serious our work.

After all, we're just moms and dads and kids and nephews and sisters-in-law and whatever.  We may dedicate ourselves to great causes, or hope to leave legacies for our children, or aspire to contribute something timeless...or to make a mark, leave a dent, achieve. 

But while Billie Jean will echo through time, as we all hope to, it's just notes in the wind. 

Here today, faded tomorrow.

Make the moments -- every single one of them borrowed -- the very best you can.