no country for old men

The deadly frozen ice has struck. i fell getting out of my truck and landed on my elbow, no damages, but there could have been. Deano, my sculpture buddy, fell coming down his driveway at night. His feet flew out from under him and, as he says, headed for the stars. He landed on his side and head, knocking him out, breaking three ribs and collapsing a lung. he lay unconscious for some minutes before rolling himself down his driveway and into his house. He's now recovering with soup Julie made for him. It's a shame he had to get her soup this way-- always wanting something she'd made, she being a legendary cook out here, known for her green chili stew. Paulie the photographer was nursing a bad back from the same kind of fall, i saw him when i was picking up Deano's ingredients, and Tom the potter nursing a headache from three falls he said where he lives in Pecos. I call it the betrayal ice because it happens so quickly you never see it coming. Like a lover who leaves in the night or dumps you for another, the suprise is so fast and you're falling, falling on the ice that forms in sheets and clumps and hides out in the street or on your hill or just outside your door. My road home is still impassable unless i am in the truck with 4 wheel drive and every day i'm out Julie always asks how was the road? i say still unfit for those two pointing at the other truck and a honda which i always questioned why we have it out here. i asked Paulie in the store if all these falls meant we were getting old and he said, maybe just a little bit maybe just a little.