I have seen the future; it is murder.

This past week saw me buy a new canoe. It is very sleek and, the salesperson told me, safe and easy to maneuver. I once had an aluminum Grumman Lightweight but I lent it to someone who said he "lost" it under a waterfall. Hmmmm. But that's another story and totally irrelevant to this entry.

This long weekend (in Canada referred to as "Victoria Day" after Queen Victoria) was hot (about 80F) so we took the canoe up to the cottage to try it out. My daughter and her husband were granted the first turn and were successful. I arrived later and stood in the sand waiting for them to paddle to shore. It felt a little funny, standing in the sand, but I chose to ignore the feeling. The canoe beached and I took it for a solo spin, almost falling as I climbed into the boat.

I had no life jacket, so my "spin" was short, but enjoyable. I returned and waded into the lake to watch over my young granddaughter and grandson who were doing "kid things" and not really paying attention. I was standing in the water when the "feeling" returned, only magnified 10x. My feet were sinking into the sandy bottom and I was becoming disoriented. My wife made me sit down and she took over guarding the kids. I was fine, sitting down, but every time I stood in the sand, I....well... you know the rest. It was PD; I am certain. The loose sand just made my lack of balance that much worse. When I got on firm footing, there was no problem.

By the way, the water was freezing. The ice only went out a short time ago.

But this idyllic family photo is the present, it is the future that has me upset.

I have enjoyed watching MJF acting on "The Good Wife"; after all, it has been 25 years since he was diagnosed and he looked good. There was an occasional twitch in his right hand; he was a little stiff, and his voice was not what it used to be. But, for the most part, it did not seem that he was too handicapped. That made me cautiously optimistic. I won't be alive in 25 years, so I felt if I could be as physically able in 15 years as he is after 25, I would be happy.

I tried to retain that optimism but its burnish had been a little tarnished by the news that MJF is succumbing to the ravages of the disease. The disclosure that he is not far off from requiring the use of a wheelchair has put a crack in the window of my future, a small crack, but a crack nonetheless.

I am in a river of discontent. I can't change the direction of the current, but I can paddle my canoe a little harder and faster to overcome its desire to weaken my resolve.

My future was momentarily breached by pessimism.

The shine is beginning to return.