From Richard Ford’s Novel

Let me be Frank with You

I feel a need to more consciously pick my feet up when I walk- “the gramps shuffle” being the unmaskable, final-journey approach signal.  It’s also to keep me from falling down and busting my ass.

What is it about falling?  “He died of a fall.”  “The poor thing never recovered after his fall.” “He broke his hip in a fall and was never the same.”  “Death came relatively quickly after a fall in the back yard.”  How far do these people fall?  Off of buildings?  Over spuming cataracts? Down manholes?  Is it farther to the ground than it used to be?  In years gone by I’d fall on the ice, hop back up and never think a thought.  Now it’s a death sentence…Why am I now a walking accident waiting to happen?  Why am I more worried about that than whether there’s an afterlife?