On the second day of a double nero, I marched thirteen miles into a strong head wind to Atlantic IA.
I spent most of the day in solemn thought about Muhammed Ali. I am not a mourner, generally speaking. Death is inevitable. Unless it’s not.
Nobody really knows what happens when you die, except that the body, the lifeless body, has definitely been vacated. If you’ve ever seen a dead body, you know that what made it alive ain’t there no more. Whatever you want to call it, it is goners.
So somewhere, somehow, whatever made Ali so profoundly alive may still be around. Has anyone ever tried to quantify this stuff? I’m sure somebody has. Mass. Temperature. pH. Electromagnetism. Before and after. Ghostbusters…
Regardless, Ali was as cool as cool gets on this planet. That my lifetime happened to coincide with most of his reign of coolness is one of the things I most appreciate in this Universe. I’m not going to mourn. I’m going to thank my lucky stars I got to live when he was around. Ali showed me how to be human. Thank you, man. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Peace, Love, and Louisville,