I’m painting. Gardening. Watching foreign TV. Not playing music. Not backpacking. Bikepacking some. Buying stuff I need. Buying stuff I don’t need. Just buying. Eating to much. Eating too much sweet stuff. Going to therapy. Going to the gym. Walking. Stretching. Walking some more. Taking care of my girl. (Vertebrae fracture) Camping. (Right now!) Driving. Aging.

Aging. It seems to have crept into EVERYTHING. Insidious it is.

I’m old. In August I will be at the average death age of an American male.

I’m not average, but it’s weird when your classmates begin to leave. Billy DeCorrevont. My first and best childhood friend died this week. He was born on Christmas. His gifts got split in half. Raw deal. We totally grew up together. Bill was fast. I could throw. We were an unstoppable combination in the neighborhood. Instant touchdowns!

We did all that weird boy stuff in the woods. We gawked at the older girls. Bought out first cars. I went to college. Bill went to the Navy. We were never close again after that. A little in our first marriages. He was a great photographer. Now he’s gone.

I wonder who will be next. Me?

I died in the bottle 29 years ago on the 28th of this month. Then, miraculously, I hit the jackpot. AA. Still attending and doing service. A meeting every morning. I try to just pass on what was freely given to me. There is no paying back in AA. Just passing it on.

I’m at Deep Creek Campground at Green Lane Park. In my tent. I have loved tents ever since we put a blanket over the dining room table in the house on Lilac Lane. It still feels safe in a tent. Like the world can’t get me in here.

It feels good to write. I think I’ll get back at it.

How shall I sign my name? I don’t feel like All-In anymore. Erle. Yes.

Erle