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Is the important trivial, or the trivial important?

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By Brad Bradberry

It was Sunday a couple weeks ago and, as always, I found myself at 8 a.m. in front of the TV watching one of those weekly news shows. The discussion, as always, involved the presidential race, and as I took a swallow of coffee, it occurred to me that I was completely wasting my time given that I will not be around to vote next November.

But then I asked myself: Is it really a waste of time if I’m trying to keep my life as normal as possible? And if I’ve spent almost every Sunday morning for the last 30 years watching news shows (and I have), then the answer is, no, it is not a waste of time.

As many of you know, that’s the toughest part about an incurable cancer: trying to maintain some sense of normalcy when the thought that you’re going to die never leaves you.

The number of cancer patients who fight the disease into remission is growing, but for others among us there is little to no hope of a cure.

For me it’s pretty simple. One day the cancer will shut down my digestive system for good. I don’t know when, only that it will occur quickly. One day I’ll be OK, but on the next I’ll be forced into the hospital, and a day or two after that, eating will cease and hospice will begin. The difficult part is not knowing when that time will come.

So there’s a part of me that says, “Be productive and write more,” or “Get on the ball and plan that memorial service,” or ee well, I could go on, but you get the point.

I have never been very good at using my time wisely, or doing things that call attention to myself, including planning memorial services, so why start now?

I’ll simply keep on keeping on, just the way I have all these years, and when the time comes, I’ll turn on Tim Russert and “Meet the Press” and watch until I get another dose of painkiller. Then I won’t care who’s slinging mud at whom or what the pundits inside the Beltway think about any of it ee not that I’ve gained any more faith in them over the years.

• • •

We had just finished a Norman Rockwell meal on Thanksgiving Day when my 6-year-old grandson announced that he was ready to do something else. “If you would like to leave the table, what do you say?” I asked.

He thought for a few seconds and asked back, “I’m stuffed?” Ah, from the mouths of babes ee

Brad Bradberry is the former publisher of Evergreen Newspapers.