Since arriving in the state, Laura and I have engaged in a few “Maine” activities. I think this one might take the cake though. There aren’t many that are more Maine than cutting down one’s own Christmas tree. In the forest. In a whole bunch of snow.

The older I get, the more I think about what life will look like after I hit retirement age. I guess that number is supposed to be 65, though it feels pretty arbitrary. Right now, I don’t plan on suddenly changing the way I live just because I’ve crossed that line. Still, when I look at people who’ve already retired, I can’t help but feel a bit concerned.

I hate to admit it, but there was a time I was against motor vehicle inspections. I always thought they were a waste of energy. For me, anyway; they got in my way. The fact that they existed forced me to do something I didn’t want to do – an extra and irritating chore. And honestly, they still do get in my way, but that’s because of the simple fact that I know how to perform my own vehicle maintenance and repairs.

The good folks of Maine were stricken by some sort of disease last month. None of us knew what it was, but nearly all of us were affected, me included. At first, I thought it was a simple head cold induced by some dust that was cast into the air by a propane heater fan. Dust has been a trigger for me for most of my life. In fact, back in 2012, I trained Muay Thai at a club in Connecticut that used forced hot air as its heat source. The heat used to run while we were in class. That year, I caught seven head colds in the one season due to the dust spewed from the system. It was terrible.

This may turn out to be an unusual post. Right now, I’m not entirely sure what I’ll write. As I sit here, nothing particularly cohesive has come to mind, but I’ll give it my best effort. After all, that’s what moments like this call for, doing my best. The challenge is that I’m feeling a certain way, yet I haven’t quite found the words to express it clearly.

Back in the 1990s, there was a quarterback for the New York Giants named Dave Brown. I remember watching him play. He was one of the best quarterbacks I’ve ever seen throw a ball. When Dave was on, he was really on. And when he was in this state, he seemingly transformed the football into a missile. Such accuracy and elegance. And speed! Boy, I remember watching those games when Dave was playing well. It was like nothing could stop him.