how a political candidate got me to reexamine the state of my whole life.

Well, I was faced with the reality of my mortality last night as I passed by a bunch of congressional campaign signs promoting a candidate named Hallie Something.

Here's what I want to know: how are the Hallies of the world old enough to run for U.S. Congress?  Are nineteen-year-olds even allowed to hold office?  Where have all the Debras and the Carols gone?  Can a Hallie even purchase a pantsuit, or would she get carded at the register?  I have so many questions about politics.

I was shaken by those signs.  I still am, to tell you the truth.  It's evident I am no spring chicken, as I am obviously older than any Hallie on the face of the earth, and even those Hallies are apparently no longer too young to run the country.  As I contemplate my age, I must face the fact that I will die someday.  And when that day comes, and my life is in the books, someone named Brooklyn or Sebastian will probably be President of the United States.  That's a sobering thought.

Wow.  Color me thoroughly bummed out on this fine Thursday morning.  Off to live the life of the dying.