I was born in the wrong era….maybe….

 Sometimes, I feel like I was born in the wrong age. This modern, hyper-sensitive era I live in is a bit discombobulating for me. Relationships are difficult to juggle in this age, with the constant distractions and high cost of living. It is no wonder the divorce rate has skyrocketed. Then there is the war on masculinity. I feel like a Neanderthal in a world of sissified boys.

Perhaps, I was born in the wrong timeline.

There are times when I think I should have been born in the age of Vikings. Raised in a village, trained to raid and fight from the moment you are born to the last moments of your life. I even know my weapon of choice would be a battle axe.  The idiom, “live by the sword,  die by the sword” would be in full effect.

Or perhaps, I would be better suited living as a serf in service to a provincial lord. I would be raised on a farm, tilling the ground to help feed the nobles who looked down on me and my family from the castle walls. Maybe, I would be able to earn a promotion to stable hand and find security in the safety of the castle.

Mayhap, I should have been born in the Wild West. I could eke out a living as a trapper or gunfighter. I could have earned fame and fortune by helping to settle the west with my lightning fast draw, or on countless expeditions mapping the unknown. With danger lurking around every corner, it would be an exciting way to live. The constant thrill of not knowing what life had in store for me would surely take its toll on my mind and body.

There is also a high chance I could have fallen ill with TB or some other incurable (at the time) disease that weakened and destroyed the heroes of these eras. Given this tidbit of information, I am thankful to be alive in this era. Where medical practices have advanced to where it borders on the miraculous. Thank God for the progress we have made up to now.

Sure, fantasizing about growing up in harder times is fun but the realization of how difficult life was during those times quickly let’s the air out of my balloon. I’m not nearly as hard or strong as those who not only survived those times, they thrived in them.  I am reminded of the immortal words of MC Hammer…”you can’t touch this.”

To be honest, I don’t want to touch it. I am grateful to be alive today.

22 January 2020

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