There is relatively little one can do about the crumbling of one's civilization. The yapping of the Right's hyenas, the ineffectual twittering of the Left's mice, as the rich get richer and the poor get poorer and the country goes to hell fifty different ways. But one still has to face the day.
I find much more often now that I start the day exhausted. I drag myself into consciousness gradually, and by the time I refresh myself with a cafe au lait, I am at least nominally ready to move forward with the day. After a couple of hours, however, I tend to find my energy and endurance fading. I lack the exuberant energy of my youth.
I learned recently that when the kidneys go, everything else follows in rapid succession. It's common to the think of the body's being subject to physical injury, less common to contemplate the delicate biochemical balance that must be maintained to keep us alive. Homeostasis or bust.
My father at eighty is a rock. He's run well over 30 marathons, the last one just a couple of months ago. His younger brother and sister are both dead, along with a wide swath of his friends, many of whom crept rather than vaulted to the grave. I'd never take Dad's good health for granted, lest I somehow jinx it, but I look at it as a testament to sensible living and good luck.
There's not much that can be said about luck. But sensible living is not a goal out of reach of most people, even if it can seem elusive. With a little luck and perseverance, it's something over which each of us can exercise some control, unlike say the Dow or the War in Afghanistan. So for me, I have come to the conclusion that if I am going to make any difference at all, it has to start with more and better sleep, a healthier diet, and a little exercise. Three small steps, so easy and so difficult.