I'm not much of a Biblical person, not because of animosity toward the Bible or the faith, but because of unfamiliarity. As a kid I only rarely attended Sunday school, and when I did I invariably got lost in any reference to a particular book of the Bible. Later I learned to understand and appreciate Christianity, but never really the Bible per se, especially the Old Testament. Anyway, the above words popped into my mind the other day, as I was rooting through long-sealed cardboard boxes in our basement, seeking a ceremonial Chinese tea set given to us as either a wedding or first anniversary present. It was alleged placed, along with other paraphernalia and clutter of our lives, in one of those boxes moved from one city to another, many many moons ago. I never found the tea set. But I found lots of my past in there. Specifically, old certificates of accomplishment during law school, my law school diploma, my appointment as a federal judicial law clerk, my admission to a couple state bar associations and to practice in federal court, and photographs of me and of some of the judges I worked for. All carefully framed (except for the appointment, which was simply folded up and creased and yellowed) and all carefully packed away. And not much missed, obviously. It seemed a shame to consign them back to darkness, so I mounted them on the wall immediately behind my basement writing desk. I sometimes glance at them, and sometimes, rarely, remember something from those days. At least two of those judges have passed away, probably all three. And all of that stuff, so important to me at one time, is of only passing relevance to my present life. And once I have gone, will be of only less relevance to my survivors. Then of no value at all. I know that for a fact. I know, for example, that I once had a framed certificate of my paternal grandfather's, an honorary appointment to the (obviously) mythical "Nebraska Navy." It was an honorific for his participation in a gubernatorial campaign. That's all I know about it, now that my father has passed on, that and the fact that I cannot find it anywhere, which shows how little it really mattered to me. Sorry, Dad. But back to that Biblical reference. I went to my Bartlett's Famous Quotations, and looked it up. It's in Psalms, and reads: "As for man, his days are as grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone. And the place thereof shall know it no more." Psalm 103, 15:16 Which is totally appropriate. All that stuff once mattered much, now matters little, and will soon be nothing but flotsam and jetsam of a life once lived, the photos probably donated to St. Vincent de Paul for the frames, and perhaps someone somewhere sometime will see one of the photos and wonder who the heck that person is. And no one will know.