I love Bill Watterson's comic Calvin and Hobbes. What Calvin says in irony, I say in truth. Our very existence is a struggle between forces that would swallow us at any minute. From the tiny virus to the massive stellar collapse, our demise could come in the next moment or perhaps not for years. We aren't going to get out of this world alive. But each day our self winks out as we sleep. This oblivion we endure daily. Through our lives our experience of self becomes a collection of video fragments that we piece together into a continuity much like the eye merges the still photos into a motion picture. Most of our life experience is lost or misplaced. I say misplaced because occasionally an event can stimulate strong recollections. Memory is frail. As we age our faculty dimishes. Our recollections get altered with time becoming fiction. In essence, we begin losing ourselves long before our lives cease. Take a look in the nursing home at the bodies twisted in fetal positions. Unaware. But there is no reason to be grim. There is all the more reason to celebrate. The fact that we lived at all occurs against such great odds as to be thought impossible.