By March end, I’ll be turning 63.
Wow...that sounds weird.
I mean, besides the odd, crooked number, “turning” seems to
indicate at some point I’ll undergo some sort of magical transformation.
As if a circle of starlight will surround and infuse my
being with 63-ness.
Wisdom of 63 will fill my head and another slice of the
unknown will suddenly become known.
Such as, why Instagram is essential to the health of
my social media profile.
And the revelation that Lady Gaga and Pink are really the same person.
I don’t know.
We all make such a big deal about age...especially when we have
a bit of it on us.
But isn’t that a good thing?
According to today’s quote from my pal Shinkei, “One cannot
be certain of living even into the evening....”
But if you eat Big Macs every day, you probably already knew
that.
I like to think it’s not so much about “turning” 63, than “earning”
63.
All those successful days of living, earned.
All the smiles and the tears.
All the courage and the fears.
Friends made...friends lost.
Challenges won...challenges undone; all that got us to where
we stand today...or sit if our backs start acting up, again.
Finding a few more grey hairs doesn’t make me older; even if
they’re growing in odd places I never knew hair could grow.
Herniating a few more discs in my thoracic spine from over aggressive
showering doesn’t mean anything.
I really don’t feel any different than I did when I was 23, but
of course my memory is getting a little fuzzy.
I’ve always thought, as long as I keep my mind lean and
flexible, the rest of me will follow.
Think young, stay young.
Think old, grow mold.
It’s the secret old tries to convey to young...but young
never hears, mostly because they’re too busy honking their horns, the second we
get distracted by a cool looking cloud at the traffic light.
When we wish we were 23 again,
do we really want to go through all that 23-ness again, or are we just wishing we could impart our experiences, now earned,
into ambitions, once yearned?
Do we really want to live through bell bottoms and polyester
again?
8 Track tapes and Captain and Tenille?
Phones tied to the wall that gave not a clue as to who was
calling, forcing us to actually talk to people?
Trying to decipher driving directions mapped out on a napkin,
by the short order cook at the diner...“Make a left at the meatloaf stain...”?
Uh, uh...no thank you.
Instead of wondering what the future holds and worrying how
to get there, without miss
ing an episode of Charlie's Angels... I’m actually living
in the future, now, with a large flat screen TV and a computer in my pocket...even
though I still wear
the same style sneakers and jeans.
ing an episode of Charlie's Angels... I’m actually living
in the future, now, with a large flat screen TV and a computer in my pocket...even
though I still wear the same style sneakers and jeans.
Now, I can stream the Angels anytime I want...which, now that
I think of it, kind of sounds a little naughty.
And while 23 was nice, I’m sure at the time I thought, not
as nice as 13...or even better 3, when I didn’t have to tie my own shoes.
So I’m cool with what and where I am.
I’m not Solomon, but I’m a lot wiser than I was... I
think...maybe.
I only order half as much stuff on HSN as I used to...but
that Frankie Valli collection does look enticing.
Young is great, but getting older is even better...plus you
get the discounts.
Besides, I’m still only 62...at least for another month. I try
to spend a lot of time with friends who are significantly older.
I get a kick out of watching them struggling to go up and down
stairs without making funny noises.
It keeps me young....
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I liked this post a lot Brian, especially as I ease into 61 in a few months. P.S. My damned white eyebrow hairs are driving me crazy! - Linda
ReplyDeleteYes...they tend to yammer and yammer on all day long....
Deletei loved the captain and tenille! and the osmond show on sunday nights... i could go on and on... i can't believe how fast the years go. we shall think young and stay young!!! somehow.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a plan...with lots of beer, of course....
Deletewell of course! cheers, my friend...
DeleteA little further down the road and approaching 68, I am so proud that I do not partake in Big Mac or French-fries. Although I can't be too smug, bearing in mind my chocolate addiction. Funny thing though, I tend not to bite a chunk until 8pm. Most likely I may not make it until that fateful morning. But at least I will have had a lay in.
ReplyDelete