57: It’s Not Just a Steak Sauce Anymore

So I’m 57 this month.

Actually, every month for the next year. (rim shot) But seriously, folks…

What I want to know is, how did I get here so freaking fast? It really is amazing. It’s like grabbing ahold of a rocket just as it launches, then hanging on for dear life.

I remember Dad taking me out to lunch on my 30th birthday, and him asking me if I ever thought I would be “this old.” I said I never thought I would be this old this fast.

And that was 27 years ago!!

Now, I’m at the age where my friends and I compare medications. (What’re you taking for your high blood pressure/cholesterol/diabetes/yadayadayada?) With all the stuff I take, I’m a walking chemistry set. I worry, one of these days, they’re all going to interact with each other, and I’ll spontaneously combust.

I can no longer sit down or get up quietly anymore. The action has to be accompanied by this groaning noise, like I’m putting down or picking up some huge, tremendous weight. Which, of course, I am. Gravity is a terrible thing, sometimes.

Speaking of which, I seem to be getting shorter, as well. I’m pretty sure I used to be just a shade over six feet tall but, according to my last few doctor visits, I’ve been measured at five-ten to five-eleven. If I live into my nineties, I might end up as a dwarf.

I have reading glasses scattered all over the house, in an effort to reduce the number of times I’m caught in a room without any when I need them. It’s bad enough being caught in a room with no idea at all why I went in there! Then, I have to play detective, searching for clues, retracing my steps, interrogating myself, roughing myself up when I don’t give the right answers…it’s just terrible, I tell you. I should know by now, if I just leave the room, then I’ll remember why I went in there.

Then, you know, there’s the cosmetic stuff. I don’t look too wrinkled, I think; the fat mostly conceals that. Not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Also, I don’t know how this happened, but the hair that’s missing on my head has evidently relocated to my ears and nose. I guess it’s more fertile there, because it sure seems to grow faster there. I think someone should open a chain of ear and nose barbershops; that is a seriously untapped market, if you ask me.

Fortunately, though, I haven’t become a geezer, yet. I haven’t taken to wearing Bermuda shorts with knee socks, and I don’t go around knocking kids over the head with my cane, although that part actually sounds kinda cool.

And, by the way, kids, you may not want to take naps now but, trust me, the day will come when you will absolutely live for them. Really.

Bottom line, despite my whining and complaining, it’s been a pretty dang good life, so far. I’m glad to still be here, with the people I have in my life. (and the pets!) Done lots of things I shouldn’t, avoided doing lots of things I should, got more than a few regrets, but many blessings, as well. Getting old is a pretty scary thing to me, but I won’t dwell on that here. Some other post, perhaps. Right now, I’ll just be happy with where I am.

Since the only wisdom I can pass along is what I can borrow from someone else, I’ll leave you with some lyrics from my all-time favorite lyricist, fellow Texan Don Henley. Hope I get to stay around awhile longer.

Later, y’all. Nap time.

I look in the mirror now
I see that time can be unkind
But I know every wrinkle
And I earned every line
So, wear it like a royal crown
When you get old and gray
It’s the cost of living
And everyone pays
It’s the cost of living
And everyone pays

Don Henley, “The Cost of Living”

Songwriters
DON HENLEY, STANLEY LYNCH

Published By
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group

For every moment of joy, every hour of fear
For every winding road that brought me here
For every breath, for every day of living
This is my thanksgiving

Don Henley, “My Thanksgiving”

Songwriters
HENLEY, DON / WINDING, JAI L. / LYNCH, STANLEY

Published By Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

 

 

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