Aging, as we all know, comes at us faster than an oncoming train. Do you remember when you were a kid and thought, "Will Christmas ever get here" and it was only July. Weren't we all suckers? When I turned forty depression didn't overwhelm me. On the day of that event I was at a high school basketball game at the Rock Island Fieldhouse. That's it. No other memory. I didn't think my life had ended. It was just another day.
I loved turning fifty. My kids were gone and I had more money than ever to spend on the Queen and myself. I could run like a greyhound, too. I loved going to work and was doing quite well, thank you.
Sixty was okay but I don't remember the day it happened. Maybe because it was like being fifty-nine but only one day older.
When I turned seventy---gosh, could it be true? It was like "where did time go?" Also, where did my health go? Well, I'm now seventy-four and kicking in the door on seventy-five.
I can't do many of the things I used to. I'd always been an athlete and moved around freely with little or no effort. Four years ago my lungs went on vacation and never came back. The last week, when I walk my dog, a phrase shoots through my head, "Use it or lose it" as in exercise or you'll turn into a turnip. Sadly, the turnip truck left me on the roadside.
Two weeks ago my neighbor asked me to golf at his club. I made it throught nine holes, barely. My legs hurt, my lungs were gone. My wife left me on the 7th green and took the cart to the 8th tee box. I had to walk forty yards to get to it and considered calling Uber.
Last night I was lying in bed and called one of my best buddies. He's my college roomie. He's lived in Oklahoma for fifty years. I've visited him twenty times and for the life of me I couldn't remember the name of his town. He blew it off. I was so frustrated I started swearing.
So, there are still places to go and things to see before I put the local mortician to work. I want very much to go back to the country of Portugal. It is my very favorite. We went there maybe ten years ago on a river cruise with friends. It is by far, for me, the place I could be buried for eternity.
I want to visit the southern coast of Ireland. We went with these same friends before Portugal. Our visit took us to Kinsale on the coast of the Atlantic. Such beauty cannot be explained.
I very much want to be with the villagers, the real people. I've visited Dublin, Galloway Bay and Shannon. They might as well be Cedar Rapids, Omaha or Tulsa. The villages along the coast are where my kind of people live and thrive the way they have for hundreds of years. My wife's grandmother came from that part of the world. I want to be a part of it.
Her Majesty and I have never spent much time in the Rocky Mountain region and national parks west of it. What a shame. I've heard a good deal about Banf. I want to visit in winter and in summer. I want to fish for trout and see a moose.
That's it. I'm not asking for the world. Oh, maybe a trip to Denali Park in Alaska would work, too, but I don't wish to be greedy.
Actually, at this point I'll take what I can get.
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