An excerpt about Death.

Some people live 99.99% of their lives without facing Death, while others meet Him at birth and spend the rest of their short existence dodging Him at every turn.  There is an enormous difference, of course, between the recognized and acceptable risk that most people in affluent, developed nations all over the world intentionally accept on a daily basis; the kind of risk incurred when driving, flying, walking down city streets, swimming in water over one’s head or living in a tornado-prone area; and the imminent danger of dying to which these relatively mundane activities can on rare occasions degenerate.  Until your car’s brakes fail as you’re exiting the freeway, the plane in which you’re flying loses an engine, you’re mugged, you sink exhausted below the water’s surface for the second time or climb out of your storm cellar to find your home demolished, everyday activities remain just that.  There is a similarly obvious difference between the lives these folks live and the lives led by people in the world’s less hospitable regions, so many of which seem to congregate below the Sahara, where it’s not unusual to be born without medical care in a dirt-floored hut to AIDs-infected parents in a malarial village on the verge of starvation perpetually being overrun by soldiers and rebels who regularly rob, rape, kill and kidnap.  Death is in the air, it’s in the dirty water carried two miles in an old petrol can, it’s in the bullets, it’s in the machetes, it’s in the fire and explosions, it’s in the mosquitoes, it’s in the neighbor next door, it’s in the blood, it’s in the mind, it’s in the gut, it’s in the flies, it’s in the filth.     

Only Shot At A Good Tombstone (pages 283 - 284) Copyright 2010 by Robert R. Mitchell

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