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One of my favorite storytellers on the national circuit is Georgian Andy Offutt Irwin.

He often tells the story of his 80-something year old Aunt Marguerite. In telling her stories,

Andy imitates her voice that is much like that of the late Miss Sarah Ann Whaley of Troy, “I just love ya, da-lin.”

Andy tells of the time he called his Aunt Marguerite to invite her to Saturday brunch at the Buttermilk

Kitchen or Breakfast at Barney’s or her choice of any other Atlanta-area restaurants known for amazing breakfast menus

“Your choice,” Aunt Marguerite.  Just anywhere you want to go on Saturday,” Andy said.

“Oh, my goodness, Andy. I can’t go on Saturday,” Aunt Marguerite said regretfully. “I have to go to a funeral.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Andy said. “Who died?”

“Nobody yet,” his Aunt Marguerite said. “I just save every Saturday for a funeral.”

I used to laugh at that. But it’s just not funny anymore.

Too many people have died. Too many “Saturdays” have been saved for funerals.

Maybe I just perceive it as so because I’ve gotten “to the age” when dying is a natural part of living.

Maybe, the pandemic has put death under the microscope. Maybe, as my granny  would have said, it’s a sign of the times, perhaps even the “end time.”

But, no matter the reason. It seems, that collectively, we are all out of tears.

Even so, we still have to live through, live out these “unprecedented” times.

Life is like the river, sometimes it sweeps you gently along and sometimes the rapids come out of nowhere- -Heraclitus.

And, the rapids do come, at some time, for each and all of us. For the past two years, the world has had more than its share of Saturdays.

But, Saturdays do come. Knowing that, a word from the wise:

If you only had one hour to live, who would you call and what would you say?

Well, what are you waiting for?