I am relaxed, worn out and tired thinking about the long life I have lived and what I have accomplished.

Starting out as a poor kid in a vermin-infested New York tenement to my life now.

As a realist I know I won’t be around much longer. I ask myself if there is anything I haven’t done that I want to do?


I can’t and have no urge to travel, to retrace many of my travel footsteps.

Traveling, living out of a suitcase is not easy.

Traveling to lands where you don’t speak the language is “frustrating.” Ordering foods from a menu you don’t understand can be and often is embarrassing.

I once unknowingly ordered a cow’s head.

A stranger sitting at the next table explained what I was doing and corrections were made.

We foreigners don’t realize strangers are watching over us (for which I am thankful).

Nothing stays the same.

Time passes, the days, years “rush” by.

I am now at the age of 107 an old man, but still in good shape.

As you are reading, my writing is not jittery or unreadable.

How long my good health will last, no one knows.

With Betty gone my life is not the same. I miss her, I miss holding her hand, her sense of humor. 

My Sunday comics go unread.

Nothing is forever, someday we will die. 

Sorry, reader, for this morbid thinking.

It just happens.

So, that’s it.

Have a good day and night.



(November 6, 2021)

Author: Morrie Markoff

Centenarian (born in 1914) who lives in Los Angeles, and is also a metal sculpture artist and the Author of "Keep Breathing," available on and other book seller sites.