On Being 'Long In The Tooth'.

Since Her Majesty is in Arizona visiting grandchildren I took the opportunity to visit my favorite sports bar in Columbus, Yogi's. It was football Saturday, Yogi's has 24 televisions so it's a fun day rotating one's head from game to game.

I bellied up to the bar, ordered a coke and found myself sandwiched between two young girls. One had recently received her law degree from the very prestigious Franklin College and the other was manager of a local business. In other words, they weren't your average bimbos.

As we conversed a waitress brought over two shot glasses of liquor. When they told me they hadn't ordered them I asked who did. One of them, Jesse, pointed across the bar to a guy who had to be a brother of Methuselah. He was fat and bald. The other young lady, Rachel, told me he'd been trying to hit on them all night. I was laughing so hard I told them I'd go over and find out his age. They told me he was in his fifties.
I said, "if he's that young then I'm buying a casket tomorrow". It was then I told them my age was seventy and Jesse said, "That's about what I thought" This was agony to hear.

All of a sudden I was reminded of what my mother-in-law said about herself some 20 years ago when she was in her late 80's. "I'm getting long in the tooth", she said. I'd never actually given that phrase much thought. Quite simply it means, getting rather old. Today it seems appropriate.

Well, I sauntered over to who I perceived as the old-timer, tapped him on the shoulder and struck up a fake conversation, "The girls over there really like you and wanted to know your age" He slurred out something like, fifty-three. At least that's what I thought I heard.

So sad was I that I departed the bistro. I suspect we oldsters still see ourselves as we want to be seen; young, virile and full of vim and vigor.

When I drove into my garage I looked at my wrist watch and it showed 9:30. "Wow", I thought, "it's late. I'd better hit the hay".