I plan to become Useful.

My recent mishap may lead some to believe I'm not in this for the long haul. That I am cavalier about my shin bone being connected to my knee bone. It is just not true. Anymore. There was certainly a time in my blush of youth when 30 was incomprehensible, and 1999 a pinprick in the distance, I suffered little from dalliance with self preservation. I lived mostly without fear, and my decisions were not always cantilevered into the wise section of the spectrum.
But I had a kind of epiphany here recently that had nothing to do with my concussion. I know this, because I had the epiphany pre-flight. I just forgot about it a while.
I recalled it in my "What should I think about tonight?" minutes after bed, but before slumber, when I have to plan, make, do something in my brain in order to have it shut down for the night. That led me to then wonder " Have I flirted with dead?" (Being dead, not "the" dead, cause that would be ick).  At first I could think of nothing I've done that was likely to end with my demise and a half-baked obituary full of typos in the country paper. Then, I thought of one thing. Jeez, what a maroon! Then, another, and another, and once the floodgates opened I stopped trying to think of them. They were all lined up right there, shaking their heads at me and saying "Lands end, Lady, your fleet of Guardian Angels got raggedy and went all Grizzly Adams around 1993. Since then, God's been working pretty hard all by himself. Good thing you opted for the marriage and children ladder." The astute might now be wondering how thoughts like this could lead to sleep.
It's that I made it to 30. 1999 came and went with only bilateral wisdom tooth abscesses that meant I had to celebrate the turn of the millennium through a straw. I had three children who amaze me, and married a man I am fascinated by. I not only wanted to make it to 40, 50, 60... I expected to make it to 80, 90, 100. Which wasn't the epiphany.
 It is Usefulness. That is what I think is the secret to longevity. The productive sort of longevity. I think when folks stop feeling useful, their bodies and minds start becoming useless. So, I started my useful plan. No, I've no idea what use I'll be when I hit 85. Yet. But, now I can plan for it.  Observe the useful elderly. There is working usefulness- like Gram still being expected to make cookies and pack lunches for Aunt Sib's landscaping crews. There is personal goal usefulness- like doing the Over 80 category in the mud run. And there is the care usefulness I see in my older clients who are, unquestioningly, needed by their tooth-challenged Chihuahuas. Who else would tolerate Paco? So they must live on!
Now, I don't want to live over-cautiously, so I hope God not only keeps up the good work, but maybe some of my Guardian Angels are ready to lace up again. In the meantime, with their help, I have about 30 years to figure out how to become Useful.