To Make Wine, Or Not To Make Wine

"To be, or not to be; that is the question." William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, Scene 1

I doubt that I shall ever write such prose, so powerful and poignant in so few words, to contemplate the existential, to wonder at suicide as I do daily now, in so few words. That is the art of versification writ with a fine point. It poses such a fundamental question, especially for those in a situation like mine, one becoming ever more significant as my arms weaken and my breathing retreats.

Yet not all my life is based on the existential. Whether I live or die is perhaps the least of question I ask myself on a daily basis. There are other, much more base questions which I am compelled to face. To make wine, or not to make wine? That is the question for me right now. Yet that question in and of itself compels the very same existential thinking as that which faced Prince Hamlet.

Will I live long enough to enjoy the wine I make today? This process is actually a commitment to living or dying. It takes about 3 months to make a wine kit, including bottling and the most basic of waiting times. If I start a kit, I am committing myself to existence for at least long enough to enjoy a sip or two. If I decide not to make wine, have I already asked and answered the question about my duration? Is making wine a reason to live longer? Maybe, in part.

Can I still enjoy the process sufficiently to continue with it? While I most certainly enjoy the socialization associated with making wine, it becomes increasingly difficult for me to actually take part in the process. These days I mostly watch from the sidelines, issuing the odd "bon mot" as others undertake the making of the wine. What do I enjoy more, the social aspect or the physical aspect? Clearly the social wins, yet I am rapidly receding from even that part of my life. It takes a lot out of me. By saying no, am I givng up? So yes or no also posits the existential.

Of course there is always the non-existential question. Should I really be spending money on wine when I can't make it from month to month without support from family and friends? Let's face it; I live only thanks to the charity of family and friends. In fact the financial is an existential question, since struggling with a lack of financial capability adds immensely to my emotional struggle, leading further to ask questions about the value of living. Thus, once again, I am compelled to ask the existential. To spend on wine, or to not spend on wine?

Here is the bald, simple reality. Even with the help of family and friends I am about $300 short this month. I can push this shortage on into February and March, ultimately breaking even in April, assuming no extraordinary expenses. There is no room in that budget for spending $130 on a wine kit and supplies. My "wine fund" is empty, having recently been raided for foolish things like food and soaker pads for my bed, a cost of my newfound incontinence. I've got $20 commited from a friend for the next wine making, but I asked her to keep it for now, knowing full well that if it went into the wine fund it would be taken out for something more important.

In the end, I ask myself the question. "To be, or not to be." As Prince Hamlet discovered, there are a great many parts in answer to that question. It hangs not on the edge of a single assumption. In my case, it should not be all about money, but it's a big part, large enough to overshadow other considerations. What is my quality of life? What are the things which make it better, or worse? How badly am I impacted by the things I can, or cannot do? Most importantly of all, is it really worth it, either wine or life?

Hamlet's answer is to contemplate what death will bring, not what life will bring. I would rather contemplate life, and make the wine. I've got $20. Now all I need is $110 and a self-commitment not to spend it on silly things like home insurance or groceries or medical supplies. I can do this.