Yesterday was my mother-in-law's 99th birthday. I should live so long or so well. She is still bright and vital, although she doesn't see that well any more. Coming home from the nursing home last night, the Boss Rabbit and I discussed the odds and ramifications of our living to see 99. It's doubtful for most of us, after all, even with advances in medicine and living a healthier lifestyle. My dad, had he lived, would be 99 this year, too. He died 35 years ago, at the age of 64, after a dozen years of heart problems and a lifetime of hard work.
For me to reach 99, I will have to somehow survive another forty years. This seems really unlikely. The answer, I suppose, is to follow the advice written above the sundial on the west wall of St. Cuthbert's in Edinburgh.
Written in the voice of time itself, "Live well, for I fly."
Thus spake the rabbit.