The Essence is Time

Let me be the last to wish you a Happy New Year!

Hopefully, I’m the last, because if people are still wishing you a Happy New Year, a couple of days before St. Patrick’s Day, then both you, and they, need to get out more.

Like me...I need to get out more, at least enough so my tires don’t crumble with dry rot, again.

So, it’s been awhile.

I’ve been a little slow out of the gate getting the retorts rolling, this year.

Not that it was intentional.

It just was.

Not sure why.

As I was telling Super Retorter, Joan, just the other day, every time I sit down to write I seem to get easily distracted and that’s the end of that.

I think I’m going to blame Trump. He’s constantly after me to work up pithy new Tweets for him to put out there. 

Of course, I have no idea what I’m talking about, especially at that hour of the morning, so I just throw out any nonsense that pops into mind, just to get rid of him. The next thing I know he’s got the whole world in an uproar.  

Crazy, huh?

Go figure….

I’ve also spent a lot of the new year trying to find myself…again.

This year I found myself in the cookie cabinet, which wreaked havoc on my waistline.

Not to mention the cookie cabinet.

And once I did find myself, it took a while to get myself unfolded, a difficult task in and of itself, made even more so while there’s still an unopened box of Fig Newtons tucked away in the corner.

It seems to be a lifelong endeavor of mine, this finding myself.

Where do I belong…how do I leave my mark in the world?

And even after I think I’ve finally figured it out, it only sticks for so long. I never feel satisfied with where I am.

Although, the cookie cabinet was kind of fulfilling.

Wondering what I want to be when I grow up has always been a singular focus of mine…as recently as Tuesday.

Then it occurred to me…I kind of am grown up.

I mean, I could still tack on a few more inches, at least vertically, if only so I’ll stop tripping on my PJ’s. 

And since I’m turning the birthday calendar to…wait for it…65 in a couple of weeks, I guess I have to concede my growth spurt just might be pretty much over.

“I am what I am what I am”, sayeth that great philosopher Popeye the Sailor Man.

So I better get used to it, as sayeth most everybody’s mom on the first day of school.

And that’s how I’m looking at 65…which is how I looked at 60…and 50…and 40…and 30…and 20. 

I even had a rough transition turning 10, since that’s when they took our catholic school, clip on ties away and made us learn how to tie a real one, like Jesus did.

A lot of pressure on a 10-year-old.

So, I’m looking at 65 as just another first day of school…without the tie.

In fact, I’ve already learned quite a few new things already.

Like you really can’t put your pants on two legs at a time.

Or objects in my side view mirror really are closer than they appear.

And calling 911 every time my neighbor washes his car with his shirt off is inappropriate.

But maybe not as inappropriate as my neighbor washing his car with his shirt off, in the first place.

And always…always…spell check your spell chuck…always…especially on your 35^th wedding anniversary Facebook post. 

Memorable and miserable…who knew?

As they say, and who can argue with they, since they never seem to shut up, age is just a meaningless number.

Except to the Social Security people…and your insurance agent…and your doctor…and most people younger than you.

At 65 I really don’t feel all that much different than I did at 25.

Not that this should be any big secret. For years I listened to parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles warning me not to forsake the certain moment at hand worrying about the uncertain moments ahead. We don’t get older, we only get further along down the road. Every day, every milestone is an accomplishment to be celebrated. Enjoy it all while you can.

And since most of them are now dead, I guess they knew what they were talking about.

Hey, I didn’t say there weren’t drawbacks.

What I can say with some certainty is, 65 is not even near as bad as I expected it to be when I was 35.

I had worse days when I was 45, plus deadlines to meet.

Now, the only deadline I have to pay attention to is when my toothpaste expires…and, since it’s toothpaste, I figure I have 10 or 15 years of wiggle room to play with, there.

When I chance to peer into the bathroom mirror, I even look pretty much the same as I did at 35…especially at night with the lights off.

Sorry, I may have used that line before, somewhere.

I don’t remember.

I guess forgetting insignificant things like that does come with the territory.

No big deal.

So what if from time to time I find myself standing naked in a bathtub and not sure why?

I remember…eventually.

The good part is, younger people expect older people to forget things, so they tend to ignore it.

They’ll just ask you what you’re doing in their bathtub and if there’s someone they can call. Sometimes they’ll even offer you a ride home.

But situations like that are rare.

Mostly, they make you call an Uber.

I guess the bottom line is, since it’s the topic I originally intended to muse upon, but lost track of along the way, and now need to work in, so I don’t have to go back and change the title…. time is of the essence.

Or maybe, more precise, the essence is time.

And even though time is a meaningless, artificial concept, probably invented by the Hallmark people, it does serve as a useful tool in measuring our journey down the path.

We live in it, breathe in it, do everything in it…all the time.

Artificial or not, it envelops our very existence.

So why fight it?

As long as we define it, instead of it defining us we should be okay. 

Because without it, we’d pretty much be late for everything.

Hmmm…maybe I should start wearing the tie again….just like Ward Cleaver…and a pipe; I must have a pipe to hold while I sit in my easy chair reading the newspaper.

I’m also gonna need a cocktail.

A Martini…or a Manhattan…maybe a Whiskey Sour…or a Whiskey Sweet…how about a Gin Rickey…or a Gin Lucy…maybe an Old Fashion.

This 65 thing might not be too bad after all….

Did I wish you a Happy New Year?

And for some reason I think I’m supposed to wear green this weekend…I guess because my blue stuff is in the wash.

_________________________________________

Need a Retorts Refresher?

Available Here

Still in their original absurdity....

___________________________________________________

Looking for More....

and

Like" the Retorts on Facebook 

 on Twitter  

Instagram freelanceretort

Follow Me on Facebook 

Or subscribe above to receive Retorts by E-Mail  

Retort to the Retort – FreelanceRetort@gmail.com