Glenn Frey passed away last week. He was sixty seven years alive. I refuse to say he was “old.” He, along with Don Henley, were the founders and driving force behind one of the greatest bands to ever launch music and lyrics to the highest plane of excellence. They called themselves “The Eagles” an appropriate name considering the heights to which their melodies and verses soared. When I heard of his passing I got on Youtube and listened to their music for about two hours. I sat back and listened as they advised me to “Take it Easy” with a “Peaceful Easy Feeling” and to watch a “Tequila Sunrise” and gaze into her “Lying Eyes” and become a “Desperado” who’ll “Take It to the Limit One More Time.” Then I wept. My grief was not from any personal affection for Glenn Frey. It was for the harsh realization of my own mortality. I will be sixty seven years alive in a couple of months, same as Glenn. I have, of late, messages from my body that are to say the least, alarming. These whisperings speak of chronic annoyances that can spiral out of control and make a mockery of future plans. I am beginning to understand a saying I heard as a little kid from my great uncle Luigi; “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” That being the case I have resolved that from now on I’m only going to do things that I find fun or personally gratifying. I will accept the fact that nothing can stop me from getting older, but nothing can make me grow up!  I have come to this epiphany rather late. Some of you are in the glorious spring of youth, some are like me, reveling in the bright colors of autumnal  experience. To all of you I beg, take an inventory of your life. Prune anyone and anything that does not fall into the fun or gratifying category. This may cause tears. Use them to water what remains and help that which brings joy to bloom.