We were discussing Sherlockians of the past, and how, in addition to their works and how familiar they could feel even though we never met them, how they made us very aware of our limited time on the planet. It was the second discussion that I'd had in the last few days about Sherlockians who are no longer with us, and it's not hard to come up with a list of those whom I'd have liked to have heard more from before their untimely departures. Add to that the list of Sherlockians whom you'd like to just share current developments in the hobby with to see the joy in their eyes, and the numbers start adding up.
I don't know if it's the pandemic, crossing the sixty year mark, or both, but I've started thinking of projects in terms of "I'd really like to accomplish this before I die." Nothing earth-shattering, nothing that will make me famous or leave my heirs wealthy, just things that would make my last breath a satisfied sigh.
I always think of Columbo, the TV detective who would be about to leave any room and then go, "Oh, one more thing . . ."
Because with Sherlockiana, it always seems there is just one more thing. It might be a silly thing. It might only have meaning to me myself. But, oh . . . one more thing. Which is good for some of us who like to keep our brains occupied. (Keeping brains occupied is probably the reason the entire field of Sherlockian chronology exists, I suspect.)
By the end of this week, I'm hoping that two more boxes on my to-do list will be checked off, but . . . what's that odd twinge in my back? (Don't be a problem, don't be a problem, don't be a problem.)