There are those moments in which our mind expands everywhere, to any place in every direction and suddenly we realize that there is no one thought but many, that they are no related among them, and that the only point of reference is oneself.
It happens to me.
While I was listening to Frank Sinatra, my preferred crooner, I was looking at my collection of compact discs –something that probably the Millennials will consider obsolete— and I looked at names like Louis Prima, Johnnie Ray, Frankie Laine, Jann Arden, Don McLean, and I sigh.
How many don’t know who they are or were?
I look at the pictures of great and wonderful friends already gone, and I feel that is near impossible that I won’t see them next Monday in a new meeting, as it was usual, exchange ideas, information, and have a talk about personal things. They were almost my age, at much, three years older, but they are no longer here.
And I look at myself and a question comes in my mind: what am I doing here without all of them? And also, why am I still here? What is left for me to say or to do?
Don’t get me wrong. I love to be living, to see my grandson grow and advance in his studies, to have a son that makes me feel proud and that really loves me and cares about me. To have many friends scattered in many parts of the World and be considered a man of consultation.
But I reject to still be alone, and I deplore and condemn the attitude of those who don’t keep their word.
And then I look at the possibilities, maybe to write another book and especially to travel. Travel as much as I can, see places where I've never been to before.
But above all, share my knowledge and give the best of myself to the benefit of others. Make the people feel happy, confident and fulfilled.
Milton W. Hourcade
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