Last night I finished reading Walter Payton's autobiography "Never Die Easy". Payton was a great football player (even if he did play for the Chicago Bears), and a wonderful human being who loved all of humanity and took good care of his family, friends, and fans. He had a wonderful attitude and outlook on life, and I'm trying desperately to remember all that he said and incorporate it into my life. He died at the age of 45, just 11 months after finding out that he needed a liver transplant, and then finding out that he had cancer so he didn't qualify for a transplant any longer. But because his liver was so weak, he couldn't fight the cancer. He knew he was going to die, and he never complained; he was just grateful for the days he had. What a brave individual. This was a great book and it made me cry. It also makes me question God. Sincerely, we need more Walter Paytons and less child molesters/serial killers/general creepy jerks in this world. Why take a great man like him in his prime who could have done so much more for humanity? What are we suppossed to learn from this? That life isn't fair? Trust me, we already know.
On a totally unrelated note: (we are losing a lot of great authors lately) RIP Ira Levin, of "The Stepford Wives" fame. He also wrote "Sliver" (which was made into a not-so-great movie with Sharon Stone). The book, however, was pretty good and I recommend it.
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