Sunday, March 3, 2013

I'm ALREADY Old (Part Two)

My father used to tell me, "You'll see, you'll see." It was his answer to every contradictory statement I ever made to him. Now that I'm older... I still don't see.
     There are a lot of things I didn't know about getting old, and no one bothered to warn me about them or explain them to me. For example, I didn't know that my bending over to pick something up would ever depend on just what it is that needs picking up. I guess you could say that the older you get, the harder it is to make ends meet, such as the ends of your fingers meeting the ends of your toes.
     Just the other day, I dropped my glasses on the floor and my wife wasn't around to pick them up for me, so I took a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet, tossed it on the ground, and then I picked them both up. If you think I was going to bend over for something I didn't need at that moment, you're crazy. You see, by the time we learn to watch our step, we're not stepping out very much.
     I may be old on the outside, but I'm still young on the inside. The sad thing is, the outside is the only thing I seem to hear comentary on. Whenever somebody tells me how young I look, what they're really telling me is how old I am. I know I'm old, but, except for the aches and pains, I don't feel old.
     The worst part about no longer being young is no longer being young, but I'm not so old that I'm eager for the alternative. I don't even look forward to it. I don't think anybody ever gets that old. When my buddies at work used to ask me when I was going to retire, I'd always answer, "And do what? Watch Oprah all day?" I was sad when Oprah went off the air. She ruined my shtick.
     My father used to tell me that I'll know I'm getting old when I've got money to burn, but no spark to ignite it. "Aw, dad," I would tell him, but, like pretty much everything he ever told me, he was right. And now that I've got all the answers, nobody's asking me any questions.
     All the numbers in my little black book? They now belong to doctors, not women of ill repute. And, come to think of it, just what is a "repute" anyway?
     Oh my, old age is an irritating price to pay for wisdom and maturity. I hate to admit it, but I was startled the first time I was called "Mister" and "Sir" for the first time. Dare I say I was even a little offended? Well, I was.
     "Why you little whippersnappers..." I chastised them, droning on until they eventually fell asleep. And I... and I... wait a minute...
     What was I talking about? Oh, yeah...
     Whenever I say things aren't what they used to be, I always forget to include myself. There's an old saying that goes: "I'm not as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was." It was made into a pretty funny country song, by some guy I can't remember the name of. I'm sure I'll remember his name eventually, after I no longer need the information.
     Which reminds me of another thing my dad used to tell me. He used to say that, when I get older, I could look forward to losing my mind...
     ...but that I won't miss it very much.

American Chimpanzee

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