I'm amazed I ended up in such a good place.

It's a little unexpected. After a miserable 20s, I wrote a book, met Linda, and bought Pegasus Books. Worked hard for the next 30 years--mostly just trying to keep our head above water.

To find the time at 59 to go and write my books, to spend the next seven years in my own home, living creatively while the store continued to do all right. (A little more than head above the water--if not much more.)

The heart attack has definitely put more of a premium on the moment. I think until I had the heart attack it was my assumption that I'd live into my 80s at least. Now...I realize that every moment counts.

It hasn't made me more industrious. If anything, the opposite has happened. I'm allowing myself the luxury of being lazy.

They talk about second-childhoods, but this is more like a second teenage-hood. Listening to music, reading in the afternoon, going for long exploratory walks. Driving around. Hanging out with Linda, talking philosophy and psychology and--when we slip a few cogs--politics. Stopping by the store a few times a week to put away books, being around books and comics, seeing old friends.

It's nice. I like it.