This is a heads up for those of you over 50 and heading toward Old-Cootville. People younger than 50 don\u2019t think they\u2019ll ever get there, that their youth is eternal. But you people in your 50\u201ds have come to realize, \u201cYes, I will get old someday!\u201d Your body has provided enough evidence at the mid-century mark to know it\u2019s true, though you cling to the belief that it is way, way off in the misty future. It is! In years. But, those decades will fly by so fast your head will spin, like mine does every day when a mirror, a limp, or the failure of some body part shows signs of malfunction and slaps me \u201cup-side-the-head\u201d with a, \u201cI told you eons ago that this was comings.\u201d<\/p>\n
The funny thing about it is you never fully accept it. If you are a jogger, you switch to speed walking and then just plain walking. Golfers learn to live with scores 5, 10 or 15 strokes higher than when in their prime. You give up showing your children and grandchildren how you can still do a running front flip in the back yard. Handrails start to come into use. You adjust. Sort of, but still think in the back of your mind that it\u2019s a temporary aberration, you\u2019ll soon recover and be your old self, that your trick knee will shape up and you can do some moderate jogging. Then, you cross the street and a car coming fast around the corner gets you scurrying to the curb; you finish your escape with a limp and a new pain that reminds you of the lie you\u2019ve been telling yourself.<\/p>\n
Still, you continue to think, this old man thing might be temporary, because the aches and ailments ease up, even disappear, but soon enough, new ones come your way. That sore knee feels okay but now your neck won\u2019t turn to the left. The stiffness lessens and your foot gets floppy, making you stumble every other step. It goes away and a series of leg cramps hit you every time you sit for any length of time. Usually in a public place like a restaurant where you have to jump up to kick it out, much to the chagrin of your dinning partners. It\u2019s a game of Russian roulette. You never know what\u2019s going to come out of the barrel in the old-man-gun.<\/p>\n
So you\u2019re 50, and now depressed, because some old coot read your tarot cards. It doesn\u2019t have to be that way. You can look at it as the greatest adventure of your life; on par with climbing Mount Everest. It\u2019s just that the elevation isn\u2019t quite as lofty, just to the top of a set of stairs. You don\u2019t hear me complaining. I look on it as one of those \u201cglass half full\u201d things; it could be a lot worse; my memory could fail and I\u2019d start to repeat myself, or my memory could fail and I\u2019d start to repeat myself.<\/p>\n
Complaints, comments can be left at mlessler7@gmail.com.<\/p>\n