The 59th Street Bridge

Odds are, when you are mostly likely to simply 'go in your pants', you're two.

Scraped knees are a common affliction when training wheels come off at around age 6.

When the baseball is taken away from 'the Tee', the 'machine pitch', 'the coach pitch', and, placed in the hands of a youth to pitch, you're likely to get hit with a baseball - around age 9.

The tricky damn parallel parking, it's quite likely you're going to 'ding' another car at age 16.

"Hold my beer and watch this" accidents are prone to those in their 20's, 30's.

Life is real.  We must face facts. At age 1 or 2, you're bound to fall.. put a penny in your mouth.. try to taste the flavor of an electrical cord.

6-ish, most of us will race around the swimming pool on hardened concrete, modeling the greatest US Olympic sprinters at break neck speed, yet, with no anti-lock brakes... one 'teeter' and it's like a semi trying to stop on a dime on the Interstate.  Trips to Urgent Care, ER's happen.

Age = likelihood.

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feeling groovy
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy...

Odds are, the eyeballs reading this are roughly my age, 69 at present.  I know some younger, some older..  OK, I admit, only three people read this blog, one younger, two older.

Anyways, association with age are basically predictors of what/when something happens.  First fall, the never ending first bike ride that ends against one's will.. the first beer.. the first paycheck.. the first true love.. parenting..  empty nest..  having aging/ailing parents.. retirement..  GRANDKIDS!..  this, that, lots.

A look in the mirror of honesty tells us, we are of the age some really crappy things can/do/probably will happen.  GPS'ing in on a specific group, the Liberty High School Class of 1970 had 211 graduates in 1970.  Our last reunion (40 year) we had roughly 20 that had passed. Now, we're up to over 50.

Plans to attend our upcoming 50 year (+2, thanks Covid) Reunion, ARE NOT being made by quite a few due to affliction.  Likelihood oft times simply sucks.

Hello lamppost, what'cha knowing
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't you got no rhymes for me?
Doo-ait-n-doo-doo, feeling groovy
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy...

With one eye on the future, we must live day to day enjoying the flowers growin. We must fool the young punks by demonstrating our ig-pay-atin-lay ability to say 'am-scray' to things like consternation.. hatred.. prejudice.. bad moods... simple arguments.. getting, being testy.. 

It's a time to chill.  Enjoy.  Look for beauty insteada inequity.  Smile, we have an unlimited supply of them. Love.. hug.. cry, happily. (Even if we go in our pants, scrape our knee, get hit by a pitch, ding a car, fall at the pool, or anywhere.)

I got no deeds to do, no promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morningtime drop all its petals on me
Life, I love you, all is groovy...

Odd. Even.

If we're at a parade and it rains, what better time for us to take off our hat and allow it to hit that bald spot, would feel yummy.  If profanity, dislike, hatred, political name calling are in a direct line towards us, we can use our Clark Kent shield of armor to thwart those mo-fo's off.

It's time.  Golden time.

Odds happen.

Even we can live it out gloriously, happily, nicely, yummily. (<-- screw you grammar check, should be a word.)

Oops, slipped.  I mean, "it's ok grammar check, I'll take my hat off and feel the rain, it'll be alright."

I pledge allegiance, to the lyrics, of Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel.  And to the repugnant trying to knock us off our stand, one gathering of old folks, indivisible, from Liberty and other parts, with happiness for all.

Life, I love you, all is groovy.