Some wise guy once said: "You're only as old as you feel". I mean, duuuuuuh. Thanks a lot!
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For some unknown reason Leonard Cohen's "My friends are gone my hair is grey, I ache in places where I used to play..." resonates deep within me as I start this piece. It is no doubt one of my mood flavors of the day. Hopefully, this too shall pass, but let's have some fun with it while it lasts.
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--I was recently reminded of a girl, one year older than me, on whom I had a major crush when I was about 15 or 16. Of course when you are a teenager, one year can make a big difference. Conventional wisdom told me that she was "too old" to be interested in me. Funny thing, now I would be "too old" for her, if you know what I mean. The reality of that cruel life reversal bugs the heck out of me.
--They say that, like old wine, you only improve with age. Tell that to my wife.
--I feel pretty much as good as I used to...It only hurts when I attempt to do something.
--Why is it that I can remember things that happened 60 years ago but I can't remember things that happened six minutes ago?
--I used to get by on two or three hours of sleep a night, now that's a nap.
--"What, me go there and have some old fogey come up and ask me to dance?" A terse comment by my then 85-year-old mother when encouraged to attend some social dances put on by the local Senior Citizens Club. I should have bottled some of that Dresden water she was drinking back then. I could sure use some about now.
--Why is it that I can't stop thinking about old friends as they used to be, rather than the way they are now?
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--Why is it that most of my friends are looking old when I have hardly changed a bit?
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--Why is it that when I think of my parents they are always about 30 years younger than my current age?
--Why is it that my arms seem to be getting shorter.
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--Why is it that I'll walk a mile to avoid going up stairs.
--Why is it they don't make men's sizes in belts and trousers any more.
--Why is it that everybody on the road seems to be driving faster than me, yet a certain passenger seat driver constantly reminds me to "slow down"?
--Why is it that in the world of antiques, things that are worn, tattered and faded are sought out and coveted yet in the world of human beings, nursing homes have so few visitors?
--I used to pride myself in being the second coming of Sir Walter Raleigh. Why is it that young women now insist on opening doors for me and carrying my parcels? Why is it that I gladly let them do it?
--I empathize with the television commercial for a well-known bank that features two old codgers sitting on a downtown bench. Looking at people coming in and out of a bank branch, one complains to the other: "What's wrong with the way it used to be? You'd get to the bank -- and it was closed!"
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You're only as old as you feel? Give me a break. Why try to kid anyone? I'll settle for feeling as old as I am. When I woke up this morning I was still breathing. I was surrounded by love. My dog gave me a lick and then rolled over for her customary belly rub. The sun was shining. I had several exciting projects to complete, one of them was called "life".
My cup runneth over. Any more and it would be a waste. I enjoy what I have (left).
Anyway, gotta go now. Geritol and a nap await, which ever comes first.
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