I wrote the following and put it on facebook.  Not the place to do what I wanted.  I'll just get raw raws.  I want more insightful, thoughtful, original interactions.

I might go for a blog (or the one i already have) and learn how to do it well, or I'll just curl up and watch "The Good Wife" or Panrenthood or something on TV..

I realize I was being followed by the terrible “Black Dog”.  meaning the Black Dog of depression.  This metaphore came from an article on a blog called “The Art of Manliness”, (which you could find with a google. http://www.artofmanliness.com/2015/03/09/leashing-the-black-dog-my-struggle-with-depression/)  Someone who loves me has interceeded and is helping to point me in a new direction. 

 Yup!  That darn dog was and is “dogging” me.   I’m sure glad my little Bozie is mostly white.  Were it not for him this winter, the “Black Dog” would have likely eaten me up by now.

Now I know about this thing, I am fighting.  That same loving person gave me some suggestions, one of which was to start a blog aimed at people like me, people pushing 80.  Well, don’t know how many are out there, but what the heck.  I’ve got to fight.

So, here I go.  Let’s call it “THE ART OF ELDERHOOD”  or maybe “Growing old gracefully”.  But the “growing old” has already happened.  ("elederhood sounds like something to do with "elders" of the Mormon Church.) What do you, whoever might see this out on the web, think?  Any ideas for a better name?

I got a jump start start later the same day as  I was being driven on a little errand by my daughter-in-law--one I could have probably gone to by myself, had I not been in that beaten-down mode.  Anyway, she stopped to be friendly with a friend who was walking her five-year-old son to register for kindergarten.  The littlle fellow was beaming with importance and anticipation.  He was literally full of light and, of course, we watching felt happy for him .  He was entering into a new phase of life.  I sat there comparing.  Why couldn’t I see something positive in this new phase of life I’m in? 
I think one way of looking at where I am is not to think of the “looking back” part as liken to Lot’s wife, but maybe as my own grandmother must have done about a week before she died when she drew a little picture of a figure looking back over her shoulder at a dreary-looking road lined with dark trees.  Perhaps, and I like to think this the case, she was experiencing a sigh of relief to have come through the past, which I knew held much heartache, and now had it behind her.  My busy mother had not noticed the meaning I, at age 35 or so,  saw in the picture and so it was on its way to the trash.  I rescued it and framed it and it is hanging in my ranch house to this day.  I seemed to sense that some day I would understand the feeling I had then.   Now I do.
So, much like that little five-year-old headed for kindergarden and perhaps looking back and being glad he is out of his babyhood, I decided could start feeling grateful that most of the “wine press has been trodden”.  I can now spend more time pressing my blurry eyes up against the “glass” that is described as only being able to be seen through “darkly.”  What can I see?   Hummmm.  Perhaps that’s part of what this blog could explore.