Rodney Dangerfield had a schtick, 'It ain't easy being me'. He made a fortune off of self-depracating jokes. People of the world, It isn't easy to be me, either, in thought and action. I'm only jesting, of couse. Life has been better than good for me but where the hell did it go and how did I get here?
Last night I tossed around like a soggy restaurant salad. I finally nodded off at 4:30 am but prior to this I did much reflecting. It wasn't a top priority but I'd officially turned 75 and 'let the reflecting begin'. Yes, it was January 26 of 1946. My first course of action, and I doubt many would do this, was to look up the weather conditions for the date at 12:15 am when I came bursting on the scene. I'm told my Superman cape got caught on some body part of my mother but that's another story.
At any rate, the temperature was 16 degrees, between 3 to 5 inches of snow was expected during the night and winds were blowing at 9 mph. Our of curiosity I looked at the weather for Boone, Iowa at the same time last night and the conditions were exactly the same. It must be Divine Providence. Also, I'm told, it was dark in the skies just as it was last night.
Birthdays in my family were just that; a family affair. My grandfather's was on January 10. My dad's on January 25. They all held off to celebrate mine because I was a kid and everything revolves around kids. My dad was upset because I didn't arrive on his day. I learned over the years that this was his modus operandi; being upset. It was no big deal. He was pretty much upset about everything.
On MY day I'd have a cake, always angel food. My grandmother who lived with us made it. I'd blow out the candles and get the first slice. I was a fat little kid so I'm 100% I had a second, third and fourth piece.
I was on the phone this morning talking to my good buddy, Craig, about aging. We've known each other since '67 so we understand what the other guy is thinking. I told him if I ever met the person who came up with the term 'Golden Years' I'd punch him in the mouth. I'd draw and quarter him and feed him to a Komodo Dragon then give the scraps to buzzards. There is absolutely nothing golden about 'Golden Years'. Is it 'Golden' to have thirty seconds, on a good day, to have the time to get to the bathroom for a bowel or urinal act? On a bad day it's five seconds. There is only one part of my body that doesn't get stiff anymore. Can't bend over to clip your toe nails? No problem, just let 'em grow until they wear a hole in your sock then after this happens don't wear socks. If I want to get up out of the couch I need to begin a rocking motion to gain the old mo. On the 3rd rock I'm up and out---sometimes.
Pills? You got 'em? I need them; lots of them. For twenty years I took Depakote and Effexor for anxiety and depression. Those sound fairly benign, right? I've switched to Procaz. Oops! Now you think I'm a Jeffrey Dhamer type. When people find this out I don't boil water in their presence.
In 1974 I was teaching a class called Thanatology aka 'Death and Dying' at Davenport Assumption HS in Iowa. The class and I were watching a film on aging when the narrator started referring to 'The Check-Out Generation'. We all laughed heartily. I was age 28. Can't ever happen to me. Well, I've arrived. I'm a card carrying member.
Kids don't respect the elderly. A few years ago I was at a gas station in New Albany Ohio and accidentally bumped into a young kid. He yelled at me, "Watch where you're going you old f*cker". I was flabbergasted but had a retort, "I am not old".
Three years ago I was visiting my grandchildren in Arizona. My daughter wanted a picture of me so I had a 5x7 of me sitting at my teaching desk. My 13 year old granddaughter saw it and asked, "who's the really good looking guy?" I told her it was me and she said, "You got old. What happened?"
I love golf. I want to play golf this year but chances are slim and slimmer. Last October 15 my best buddy in town and I were at the Oakhaven golf club in Delaware Ohio. We'd played four holes using a cart. I started breathing like Secretariat coming down the homestretch, got out of the cart on my hands and knees and puked up all of London, Moscow and the entire city dump of Delaware. It ain't easy being me.
Don't get me wrong. Life is good but in a different way. I have my Charlie boy. Then there's my Hawkeye sports teams. They're fun if they win. I've never seen them lose. If it looks as though this is going to occur I'll turn off the TV with five seconds left in the contest. I don't have many friends but those I do have are good people, funny, clever, loyal and wonderful Christian people. I have Her Majesty. She's better to me than possible. Dangerfield said, "My problem is I run aournd with people who do me absolutely no good." Not me.
In 1972 we lived in Ottumwa, Iowa in a very nice two story home located inside a woods. The place was built in 1912. It was our first home so it was special. We paid exactly $9,600 for our mansion. Behind the house and across the alley lived an 83 year old woman, Mrs. Fiedler. She was wonderful; the kind who made chocolate chip cookies and didn't skimp on the chocolate. One day she was talking with The Queen about being her age. She stated, "I cannot believe I'm 83. In my mind I'm still 33. That's most likely the way it is with all human beings; the brain I mean.
Tonight I'll open a couple of cards. Already I've received three phone calls. I was asked if I wanted anything special for dinner and I said no. What I would like is to fall asleep at 10 and wake up at 8 the next day. Gosh, I'm easy.
I don't care about turning 75 but there's still that nagging question, "How the hell did I get here so quickly"
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