When I look in the bathroom mirror in the morning I see this wooly mammoth looking back at me and I almost believe scientists have actually gone and cloned that sonofagun. Then I hear this music; I think it’s Charlie Rich singing, “Just say goodbye, you know it’s over.” Remember Charlie Rich? I think he was popular in the 70’s.
OGG! I’m getting OLD! Good thing Sam doesn’t care. I don’t think Kathleen cares too much either, except she keeps telling me I need a hearing aid. WHAT?
I’ve managed to kid myself up until this week that I wasn’t getting old even though I’m older than many people I know (three brothers in law) whereas I used to be younger than most people. Been there done that, have you?
Anyway, last week I received a notice from my high school reunion committee that they were planning a 50th reunion get-together. Fifty years! How can I have been out of high school that long? Too often I still feel like I’m only 17 and I have this urge to walk down the street to Bob’s Footlongs and order a strawberry shake and French fries while listening to the Everely Brothers sing Cathy’s Clown on my portable radio. If it was a Friday, I’d take my girlfriend to a football or baseball game or a movie or we’d attend a dance in the girl’s gym for awhile then we’d wind up at the gravel pits down by the river and make out like a couple of rabbits in heat. It took a few minutes when we had to go home for my car windows to de-fog. I always had to be careful not to back into a pile of rocks and get stuck.
I was a hormonal young man in those days - sigh. Fortunately, I’ve still got it. You know, IT; the thing all those ED commercials keep telling you might just be “a blood flow problem.” Baloney!
But man, I seem to have so many aches and pains these days. I can be sitting totally still on the couch watching TV and suddenly be attacked by this excruciating stabbing pain in my foot or leg or hand or arm. I get these pains often and they are totally arbitrary where they attack me. And my back aches almost all the time anymore. My knees ache too, especially after a walk or bike ride. At night when I’m trying to sleep, laying on my right side doesn’t work because my knee will protest too much. Even when I pop three Aleve, I ache.
Still, I can stand the aches and pains. What I don’t like is the fact that I have to have a root canal next week and an eye operation next month - my eyes blur too much when I read or compute or work on my crossword puzzles. I try to think of these medical procedures as merely replacing worn out parts on a car, but what if my tranny totally blows out? Plus, I’m Type 2 diabetic and am supposed to watch what I eat. I do watch what I eat; it’s just usually something I’m not supposed to eat, but I watch it all go down anyway. If ice cream and lasagna and cookies and all that crap (chocolate donuts) didn’t yammer at me constantly life would be a whole lot easier.
Trouble is, ain’t none of us getting out of this world alive. Our time here is finite. My body, which I once thought was indestructible, is advising me of my rights: “You have the right to use this body only as long as God allows it. Do you understand this right as I’ve described it to you?”
You say yes and you get, “Okay, prepare to kiss your hiney goodbye. Hey! Three bags of poop on that!
OGG! I’m getting OLD! Good thing Sam doesn’t care. I don’t think Kathleen cares too much either, except she keeps telling me I need a hearing aid. WHAT?
I’ve managed to kid myself up until this week that I wasn’t getting old even though I’m older than many people I know (three brothers in law) whereas I used to be younger than most people. Been there done that, have you?
Anyway, last week I received a notice from my high school reunion committee that they were planning a 50th reunion get-together. Fifty years! How can I have been out of high school that long? Too often I still feel like I’m only 17 and I have this urge to walk down the street to Bob’s Footlongs and order a strawberry shake and French fries while listening to the Everely Brothers sing Cathy’s Clown on my portable radio. If it was a Friday, I’d take my girlfriend to a football or baseball game or a movie or we’d attend a dance in the girl’s gym for awhile then we’d wind up at the gravel pits down by the river and make out like a couple of rabbits in heat. It took a few minutes when we had to go home for my car windows to de-fog. I always had to be careful not to back into a pile of rocks and get stuck.
I was a hormonal young man in those days - sigh. Fortunately, I’ve still got it. You know, IT; the thing all those ED commercials keep telling you might just be “a blood flow problem.” Baloney!
But man, I seem to have so many aches and pains these days. I can be sitting totally still on the couch watching TV and suddenly be attacked by this excruciating stabbing pain in my foot or leg or hand or arm. I get these pains often and they are totally arbitrary where they attack me. And my back aches almost all the time anymore. My knees ache too, especially after a walk or bike ride. At night when I’m trying to sleep, laying on my right side doesn’t work because my knee will protest too much. Even when I pop three Aleve, I ache.
Still, I can stand the aches and pains. What I don’t like is the fact that I have to have a root canal next week and an eye operation next month - my eyes blur too much when I read or compute or work on my crossword puzzles. I try to think of these medical procedures as merely replacing worn out parts on a car, but what if my tranny totally blows out? Plus, I’m Type 2 diabetic and am supposed to watch what I eat. I do watch what I eat; it’s just usually something I’m not supposed to eat, but I watch it all go down anyway. If ice cream and lasagna and cookies and all that crap (chocolate donuts) didn’t yammer at me constantly life would be a whole lot easier.
Trouble is, ain’t none of us getting out of this world alive. Our time here is finite. My body, which I once thought was indestructible, is advising me of my rights: “You have the right to use this body only as long as God allows it. Do you understand this right as I’ve described it to you?”
You say yes and you get, “Okay, prepare to kiss your hiney goodbye. Hey! Three bags of poop on that!
No comments:
Post a Comment