When I was a young boy my neighbor died a young man. His wife said "poor Red his time was up and the lord took him". I immediately became concerned that life hinged on an abstract idea called time. One day a teenager from the neighborhood was robbing a bank and the police had him surrounded. An officer yelled your time is up, come out with your hands in the air. Mickey ran out waving a pistol, and a hail of bullets later he was dead. My parents took me to his funeral and the priest said "Young Mickey Rivers, died before his time". I thought you must be kidding me. What better time to die then when someone is emptying their gun into you. I then realized it wasn't time that kills us as much as it is about what we are doing in a particular moment of time. Maybe it's not that your time is up, as much as it is your time is up to you.
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