A few years back. Was with a girlfriend - early morn, the birthday of her granddaughter - we'd driven across town to awaken her, wish her Happy Birthday. Walked into the room.. dark.. light peeked in from the curtains.. "Kendall, wake up, it's your Birthday! You're FOUR!" Big ole' smile came on, eyes, they's huge too... "Does that mean I can read?"
We go thru life setting 'alarms' for specific ages... Being age 5 by August - denotes you're AOK to go to Kiddygarden. Somewheres 'tween 5 and 10 it's 'sign me up' to be a Brownie or Cub Scout.
Of course - teenager. Yippee, FITTEEN, hand me the FOB Pops! 16, the real thing, not a permit, go, drive, by one's lonesome. I remember one redheaded frecklefaced dude that turned 16 his Junior year (he musta been a heller, they sent him to kiddygarden, age 4).. anyways, he got his DL ON the day of Prom. Father said "Don't leave Liberty" (our fine little town.) Later that night I, er, I mean he, straddled a huge median on the Plaza (South of downtown Kansas City.. Liberty is North of KC).. oops.
18, vote, serve. 21, get served.
After that, there's kind of a void on, "Hey, what age, goal, next?"
I suppose early adulthood, 18 to mid-30's, we start out po'.... get a little dough... add numbers to the household (wifey, hubby, kiddo(s).. and soon, back to po'.
Mid-life - 'around 40's to 50's' - AI (sorry Google, Wiki, ya done been replaced by AI, they're faster).. "This stage is characterized by a decline in certain cognitive functions, including memory and processing speed, but also a time of transition and reflection." Well holy crap, that ain't fun?
Oh, age fitty, AARP (offer to join) comes in the mail. Used mine for kindling in our
outdoor firepit.
Fitty five to Sixty five - we commute (or, Spotify from our home job) with Johnny
Paycheck and his "Take This Job And Shove It"...
But, most of us are forcibly glued to our office desk until Age 65 when Medicare kicks in.
Too late for "Imagine me and you, I do, I think about you day
and night, it's only right"... no that ain't it... but, it's too late for most of us raisins,
BUT, "we gotta get outta
this place if it's the last thing we ever do" and find affordable healthcare nationwide.
I admittedly suck
at long range planning - think most are in my boat - and thus, HAVE to work until 65.
'
OK, end of blog. All the important ages have been addressed. WAIT JUSTA GOL
'DURN MINUTE. I'M STILL HERE!..ME TOO! Yeah, I as well.
OK OK, yes, 4 to 5% of folks live to be a hunnerd. (For every action, there is an equal
and opposite reaction)That is, when the inhale to blow out a hunnerd candles takes place, Newton's 3rd Law
tells us the Depends are getting soiled, kinda like a 'recoil' from a shotgun. Victor, that's disgusting. Eh,
whatever. Does your Fixodent lose it's flavor on the bedpost overnight.
This blog today happened because I truthfully wondered, now what? Now what am
I supposed to do? At this age? AI tells me, most old farts:
Read, have hobbies, garden, family stuff, exercising like walking swimming, volunteering,
social groups, clubs, travel, dance, sports, tasks, relax. Not a word about NAP. I guess I'm abnormal.
Games... chess, scrabble, bingo, solitaire, sudoku, puzzles, Mahjong, yada.
AI, undoubtedly developed, created, programmed by wet-behind-ear types, urge us old'ns to get out there
and learn new tricks, art class, play an instrument, yada. AI (frequently) messages me on Facebook with
suggestions, explanations, yada. I immediately type the endearing old person "Oh thank you so much for
your suggestion Sonny, much appreciated!"
Victor, I call BS. You're correct. I always type back "SCRAM" and they say "BYE" faster'n Mashall Dillon
could draw his gun outta his holster.
To me, the Golden Age affords one the opportunity to recognize there are no have to's. We, or, the ones
in school a few years older - are the ones that questioned everything with "Why?" so why stop now, ya know?
There too are well meaning friends that enjoy 'fixing', or, at least attempting to fix (control?).. I once
read, when this, these, well meaning friends put forth an agenda, a game plan, whaddever, you should
'look them in the eye, then take your shoe off. Drives 'em batty, they lose their train of thought and it's
a way of saying (without saying) "concentrate on ya' own damnself."
Victor, that's not very nice. Well, I once heard an ex say (I ain't saying which one, heck, mighta been
both, I dunno) "You're not as nice as people think you are." Hehe. My point, it's a glorious age this
run to the the squatter to beat the pee there... Arrgggggh like a Pirate as our joints talk to us getting
outta bed.. Go the speed limit.. Pisses 'em off. It's a fun age. In fact, I have just the right pinstriped shirt
picked out to wear to the Piggly Wiggly with these checkered shorts., where I will take the motorized cart,
challenge similar fat, old farts in motorized carts "Wanna race?"... then fetch my groceries to the counter,
spend a minute or seven picking out six different scratch off tickets.
THIS AGE.
I've waited all my life for this age and never knew it.
Give em hell. Harry did, no reason why we can't too.
Love, Victurd
*Blogger note. I played hell trying to fix the margins on this. I think it's AI getting back at me.
Anyways, I thought there was a touch of irony, cause ain't the age we are right now the age of
hating being forced by margins? Rules, do this, don't do that. You'll shoot your transplanted
intraocular lens out?
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