senor sartor, as i read of your journey and stare at your beard, i am reminded of sam shepard, willie nelson, neil young, merle haggard and dennis hopper, men of your generation and ilk who are not made for the leisures of "retirement".
i imagine you singing, "twinkle, twinkle little star", your raspy voice, like theirs, raised on the grain, wrought like steel, built to last, nourished on black coffee and stonger spirits. men of your generation seem to defy age, like nebbiolo in a bottle. thanks for the inspiration.
i have seen willie play dozens of times. i saw him recently at the hollywood bowl. he performed with the los angeles philharmonic for hours in the dessert wind. i left then, like i do everytime, saying to myself, "when i get there, i want to be going that strong."
senor sartor, welcome to my list of men i would like to be when i grow up.
keep on keeping on,
postscript: hopper has an excellent book of photographs with bio sketches he created while on leave from paramount between sixty one and sixty seven i believe. he grew up in dodge city, and after his dangle with john wayne on the set of giant, he was sent into the desert by paramount.
still on retainer for ten years, he bided his time reflecting on a sea of wheat in kansas. the book recounts that journey, which reminds of yours.
that lasted until fonda called one day, "i got a million paramount dollars. i sold em a story, no script, two motorcyles, you and me, a road trip, mardi gras." hopper replied, "all in."