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Biff America: Faded letters of time

Biff America
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It is a vestige of my mother: a flap of an old envelope that once had my name written on it. But what once was Jeffrey, printed out in her neat handwriting, has paled to fre since the Jef and y have discolored and vanished. Ive come to realize that is all that remains of my mothers handwriting.Ive had the flap taped to the inside of a cabinet door on my desk for fifteen years; it has survived three moves. The letters have faded so slowly I barely noticed. I cant remember what was contained in the packet or when my mother sent it to me. Its small size suggested it might have carried cash or a small piece of jewelry.Im sure Ive spent or lost whatever was inside; all that remains is a few letters of my name. Im not a collector. During the holidays, I can be found in the post office recycling Christmas cards I open, read and recycle most of them; only taking a few home. My mother used to write long letters in her perfect handwriting, catching me up on all that had occurred on the home front. Often, she would begin her missives with the greeting: To my happy Greyhound (a nickname given to me by my older brother) and end it with: Your saintly Mother. I would take those letters home to read, often more than once. But eventually, they, too, would end up in the trash. My name printed on the flap of that envelope is all of my mothers handwriting that I have left and that is slowly fading. Of course, if I had the foresight, I would have saved a few of the letters and cards my mother sent me. But if I had foresight, I would have been a different person.I find it interesting that the one thing in life of which there is no debating is the one thing that we humans are most often in denial of. We prepare for every eventuality but the one true eventuality.We insure our homes for floods and fire, get our prostates checked, wear helmets while skiing and biking, and eat bad-tasting foods because it is better for us, yet we forget that our lives are a limited engagement. I know many people who are dead but only one who has had their house flood. Perhaps it is that there is a sense of empowerment and control knowing that you can do something about fires, floods and some illnesses, yet nothing about mortality. To be clear, Im not suggesting that we all should obsess or worry over lifes eventuality, forgetting to enjoy the present. But by remembering the finite, perhaps we can better appreciate the now.Certainly I wish I had saved a letter of two of my Mums, but mostly I wished that I had been a little more attentive and connected while she lived. She died relatively young and suddenly. Im guessing I wouldnt have treated her any differently, but I might have been more grateful of our time together.Someday we will all be as dead as fried chicken.Those profound words were offered by my buddy Larry by way of a eulogy for Joe, another fallen friend of ours.Larry said that from the pulpit. He was wearing work clothing and, to the attending priests obvious chagrin, he pulled a can of beer out of his jacket pocket. He cracked the pop-top and took a swallow. I think it was safe to say most in the crowd expected Larry to offer, as a follow-up on his proclamation of mortality, a moral, conclusion or life-lesson. Rather than do that, he took another sip of his beer, toasted the casket and said again: Someday we will all be as dead as fried chicken. He then sat down.After the initial chuckle over Larrys eulogy, I actually thought to myself: Dang, hes right.Of course, the best we can hope for in this life is a life sentence. If anyone has any delusions otherwise, well, then, they are delusional. I would suggest a good life is one where you live, love and laugh as much as possible for the time that you are allowed. More important is to leave behind your impact and influence on those who loved you. And you can only hope that will remain long after the writing on an envelope has faded …Jeffrey Bergeron, under the alias of Biff America, can be seen on RSN TV and read in several newspapers and magazines. He can be reached at biffbreck@yahoo.com. Biffs book, Steep, Deep and Dyslexic, is available from local book stores or at Backcountrymagazine.com.


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