Damn, how I hate growing old. I am definitely not the very first person to make such a statement as at one time or another, every living human being has probably uttered those words in countless different languages.
Why is growing old such a problem? First of all, I am nowhere near as strong as I used to be. The rocks that I placed around the ponds have grown in weight since I put them there a few years back and now I really struggle to move them around when I need to. As if that was not enough, the weight of the world has made me round shouldered and now I am shorter by more than an inch. On the other hand, I have had no problem at all in adding to my weight to the extent that I had to go on a diet to drop from 183 pounds to 155. Even now, it is a struggle to maintain it at this level. Then there are the aches and pains. Why do my joints ache and why do the few remaining muscles I have that are still working protest loudly when I try to use them.
There is nothing wrong with my eyesight as I still love to look at pretty girls especially if they are well endowed. Nowadays, I appreciate their beauty and the grace in which they move but unfortunately for me, the long lasting desires of the flesh are no longer present. In my case beauty is in the eye of the beholder ….me. Of course, I have to be careful not to be caught staring otherwise I am labelled as a dirty old man. Wait a minute, I am a dirty old man. So sad that this is all that remains…
I watch the professional soccer players on the television and marvel at the way they move and I remember when I played the game, not at their level but enough to make me pretty good. Nowadays, I doubt if I could run away from turtle if one turned rogue and decided to chase me.
One good thing about growing old is all of the accumulated experiences of the previous years along with all of the knowledge gained through a lifetime results in a treasure chest of information on just about every subject under the sun. The trouble is that trying to recall any of that information is iffy at the best as it’s probably long gone, buried deep in the annals of my mind, never to see the light of day when it is needed the most.
So here we have it. Creaky bones and a mind that has difficulty in recalling times of any real importance. I can still tell you the name of the kids I grew up with but I can’t remember what I had for breakfast. I can no longer run and jump and my fastest walking pace is probably less than 1 mile per hour. On the other hand, I can walk forever as long as it is at my slow pace.
So, what good am I you might ask. Good question and one that requires some thought to answer. I can still maintain the ponds and do any work on them that is required including moving the above mentioned rocks as heavy as they are. I can still walk for miles even in the hot sun as I am already wrinkled and shrivelled up even when coated in sun block so the sun is not going to spoil any semblance of looks that I still have. LIke I said before, I don’t need good looks as I am not interested in charming the ladies. I take pretty good pictures and a lot of them and know how to present them. My mind works just fine in front of a computer and I have no trouble in writing stories about those long walks I take. My two remaining dogs love me…. I think, unless they view me just as a meal ticket and the cat is so old, I am not sure she even knows who I am anymore. My house is paid for and I own a little piece of Texas and I am comfortably enough off to be able to buy groceries and any small stuff when I need it.
So, what the hell is wrong with me worrying about growing old. Everyone and everything grows old as time marches on. There is no stopping its forward march. It has been this way since the beginning and if and when it changes, it will be the end of the World.
Luckily, I will not be around to see it.