Remembrance of Things Past

Several days ago, a friend died.  She is someone I knew mostly by reputation, then finally met in 1990.  Strong willed, quick mind, once she formed an opinion, that was it, and if you dared to disagree you were dismissed with a wave of her hand.  The resolve served her well, staring aging right in the eye.  The stories of her water skiing well into her late 80s are repeated over and over.  

She was a passionate player of board games, and if she was losing, the rules changed to accommodate her position: No, e's count for more than 1 point in Scrabble.  

Murphy has that same stubbornness.   She continues to hurl herself into life, albeit  rather slowly.  But I think that sense of living every moment, of damn the torpedoes full speed ahead outlook is they way to go, to have a life lived fully.  That attitude nurtures Murphy, I think, as she limps, or stumbles, or seems confused.  Inside her are all those moments of throwing herself at the ball or a lake, or swimming in a swollen river.  

Ann met Murphy, several times as I recall.  The last time Murphy spent the whole day at her house on a lake in Michigan.  Murphy chased her tennis ball in the lake for over 8 hours, until, seriously, her tail was strained the next day from swimming!  Ann, although not a dog person, probably appreciated Murphy's exuberance.  Maybe someday they will water ski together.

Murphy's day.