As momma is fixing breakfast, and we are getting ready to head to the golf course, P Thought's thread about Faulkner got me to pondering. I was once a voracious reader. I also loved hearing older people relate the stories of their lives. I felt as if I were right there with them. I've known some very interesting people over my lifetime, and enjoyed their stories. I enjoyed all of the books I read along the way too. I find that in my waning years I have lost interest in reading, and there are no old folks left to tell their tales, I am the old folks. I suppose at the beginning of life, I had not lived very much, so I lived my adventures through the eyes of other people I knew and author's works that I read. After a lifetime of adventure of my own, I don't seem to need or care much about reading about living. I don't in any way detract from others reading, nor do I shun a good story from someone, but it just isn't the same now and it was then. I suppose it's all part of getting old.