To my astonishment, I just realized that in the last 12 months, I have visited 22 U.S. states and three foreign countries. And on no one mission or type of mission—and in fact no two or three or four.
Am I searching for something, running from something, or just suffering from a kind of spiritual spasticity?
I don't know. But it seems to me I'm getting to an age where a person should start organizing his energies, pointing them in one general direction, and not a dozen.
I'm resolving to make this the year of that. I'm going to be home more Sundays this year, and read more of my favorite kinds of self-help articles, the New York Times obituaries.
Everything I do, I'll ask: Does this fit into the obit? (Perhaps I'll invent a machine to wear on my wrist: the FitObit®.)
If it couldn't possibly—or if it shouldn't ever—I'm not doing it in the first place, because I don't have time.
Yeah, that's gonna be my slogan for the year. David Murray: Writing my obit every day.
Yeah, more on that later. I'm off for an early-morning round of golf.
"An avid golfer, Murray liked to tee off at dawn, to get to his writing desk by nine …."