The Madness of March can take many forms. If you are involved in a basketball pick-em pool, you may find yourself chasing the jack, as you root for a team to win their game so they can advance and perhaps earn you that vital point that means you win the pool; conversely, you may also find yourself rooting for your favorite team to win (OSU, perhaps), knowing full well you picked against them in the pool. So, it is a wash; whomever wins you can get some satisfaction.
On the other hand, you must contemplate the unthinkable: picking a team to win that you really despise since you have seen how good they can be; oft times it is a consolation that their upset loss cost you big points in the pool, but you love the fact that they flat-out choked.
The Madness of March also invades other parts of our lives. The month of March, the coming of spring after a cold winter, and strange thought patterns all converged at various times in my younger life to produce mental meanderings that caused to me wonder: Why are we here? How can you go through life not wanting to be famous? Or rich? What is it I want to do? How will I look when I am old? How old is "old"?
I always had the questions running through my mind, and never gave a thought to how to answer said questions.
I am only certain, in my mind, of two of those: we are here to do the best we possibly can, to live and love and try to leave this world a better place, and I believe "old" begins at 85.
If you stop learning and living, "old" can begin a lot earlier than that. I hope to be able to tell you, when I get to 85, that "old" starts somewhere after that. I am planning on having my mid-life crisis at age 100, so maybe it starts then.