My dad frequently shares jokes in real life, some of them I've heard more than once during all these years. When I was younger, late teens, early 20s, I thought them cumbersome, "come on, dad! you've told me that joke countless times", now, when I'm in early 40s, I cherish those retellings of jokes.
> When I was younger, late teens, early 20s, I thought them cumbersome, "come on, dad! you've told me that joke countless times", now, when I'm in early 40s, I cherish those retellings of jokes.
Reminds me of:
Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, an afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four, five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps 20. And yet it all seems limitless.
