Yesterday, a man about my age woke up early and got dressed for a fun day on the river. Later that day, he was dead.
He made a cascading series of poor decisions. He chose a hardcore river, class 5 rapids beyond his skills. His companions were not skilled, either. Poor equipment—including a crappy life jacket that, when the time came, did not do its job. Drunk.
My daughter pulled him out of the river. He was already blue, rigid—dead. One and a half hours of CPR in the wilderness before help arrived, to no avail.
Know thyself. Know your limitations.
On a good day, the dice roll in your favor. Yesterday, he rolled snake eyes.
Even those who make good decisions roll snake eyes sometimes. This is the second death on the river this summer that my daughter witnessed—the first was the polar opposite of yesterday’s. Young, fit, equipped with top-notch gear, expert and experienced. Yet the river took him, too.
One day, I too will wake up and get dressed, full of expectations. It will be my last day.
I guess the moral of the story is . . . I don’t know what the moral of this story is.
Live. Life is ephemeral.