I got my Medicare card in the mail last month, and it caused me to reflect on the ramifications of this milestone in my life. The following are some of my random thoughts on getting older.
It has been said that the secret of happiness is to count your blessings, not your birthdays. Actually, birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people with the most of them live the longest. The first thing I noticed when I got into my 60’s was how young people in their 70’s are. (By the way, now that I’m nearing the mid-70’s, those 80-year olds are looking mighty good.)
One clue that my life is entering a new stage is the fact that my son is beginning to look middle-aged. He likes to say the reason I am so good at history is that I was around for most of it. (I don’t know where he gets his sarcasm from.) That’s OK. My motto is that he who does not remember the past is condemned to forget where he parked.
He laughs at me because my back goes out more than I do. It’s true. I now start for home about the same time as I used to start for somewhere else. Every time I do the occasional night out, it is followed by at least one day in.
It seems like everything on me is starting to wear out, spread out, or fall out. Almost everything on me hurts these days — what doesn’t hurt, doesn’t work. I have developed age spots that spell out “Old Poop!” Did you ever notice that, when you are over the hill, you begin to pick up speed? Do you ever wonder what is the youngest you can die of old age? Sometimes I think the definition of “retired” means I was tired yesterday and I am tired again today. My big gripe with this retirement business is you never get a day off!
Whenever I start having these negative thoughts, I try to think of the bright side of senior citizenship. I like to say it’s not old age I’m experiencing — it’s the dawning of the fiber years. I am at the age now where, if there is a hostage situation, I will be the first one released.
Let me close with these philosophies on the aging process:
There are three stages of life: youth, middle age, and “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Male menopause is more fun than female menopause. With female menopause, you gain weight, become overly sensitive, and get those awful hot flashes. With male menopause, you date young girls, drive motorcycles, and build man-caves.
It’s not all that important if you are getting a little older, a little grayer, or a little slower. What is important is that you are getting a little something.
Well, there you have it. Some of my goofy perspectives from about eight years ago when I was still a young pup. When this rant is printed, we will have made the trek to Sarasota, Florida and The Little Woman (she still objects to the term) will be madly spending our meager stash on furnishing the new house. She is already obsessing over the decor which, to the best I can discern, will be “Oriental Florida.”
Annie the Cat will have made the trip in a huff and will be snooping into every corner of the new digs with that look that says, “Where in the hell did you guys put that litter box?”
As for me, I will be relegated to my beat-up old easy chair with an ice pack on my back. Also, I will be eagerly awaiting the Super Bowl between the Denver Broncos and the Green Bay Packers which we will be watching on several TVs which will still be perched on top of packing boxes. (Editor’s note: Oh well.)
A couple more “punography” favorites to close: Jokes about German sausage are the wurst. Did you hear the one about the dyslexic man who walked into a bra? Did you hear the one about the cross-eyed teacher who got fired because she couldn’t control her pupils? Try to be kind to your dentist — he has fillings too you know.
See ya...
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Dick Platt is a Daily Sun columnist. His column appears on Tuesdays. Want to “Soundoff” on this column? Email: soundoff@corsicanadailysun.com
Opinion
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Dick Platt is a Daily Sun columnist.
Discussion
The aging process
- Opinion
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No ifs, ands, or butts
Having hindsight in the little New Jersey resort town of Wildwood will soon be a civic offense punishable by a $25 fine.
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Bits and pieces from all over
I’m all for taking the quickest route from “Point A” to “Point B” as much as the next guy.
I guess it’s just human nature to want to get to where you are going as quickly and efficiently as you can so you can get on with your life.
There have to be some limits to that, though. -
Father’s Day dilemma
What to get my father for Father’s Day is one of those no-win situations, like nuclear war or when you’re eating something someone worked really hard to cook but it’s awful. Lie and they poison their own family. Tell the truth and you’re an insensitive jerk. You’re toast, either way.
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My Daddy, My Hero
A dad is a little girl’s first hero. I realize not everyone is fortunate enough to have a father in the picture from birth, but for those who do, he can be a giant.
I write this on Flag Day, June 14, Friday, which marks four years since my Daddy departed his earthly body and went to reside with his Savior. I miss him. Strangely, his own father, Fred. E. “Bud” Brown also passed away on this date in 1985.
Those two men were my heroes. -
It makes no sense
There are a lot of things I see or hear of every day that make no sense to me. At the top of my list is our criminal justice system. At this point, I could go into a rant about lawyers but I won’t — I’ve got too much class to tell lawyer jokes. Well, maybe just one?
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Its a ‘baby thing’
I guess every birth is as unique as the child it produces.
After having inductions at 38 weeks (with NO epidural) myself, I was unprepared for the “going into labor on your own” avenue of childbearing. (For anyone not familiar, I’m discussing grandchildren here.) -
Real world issue
Our Janet Jacobs has a story in today’s paper about the early work on the City of Corsicana 2013-14 budget, and some of the challenges they are facing in the coming year.
I feel quite certain that we all can “relate” to that — it’s a battle the working folk in this city, and hundreds of other cities across the nation, have been fighting for some time now. -
Teachable moments
A few summers ago, my wife and I had the privilege of keeping our grandchildren for a few weeks in Montana. They were 8, 10 and 11. We normally saw them for a few days two or three times a year. I felt like Santa Claus, showering them with presents at Christmas, but not part of their daily lives.
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Storm warnings
This will be the first time The Little Woman (she dislikes that name) and I will have spent an entire hurricane season here on the Gulf Coast. Predictions range from “It’s just another year in paradise” to “you may not have to wait until Christmas to have a tree in your house!”
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Stupidity starts with breakfast
There’s all sorts of stupidity out there to make fun of, but I thought I’d pull just a few samples this week for ya.
It must start, of course, with the gold-plated chocolate bacon. - More Opinion Headlines
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