Most of the time, I don't think about my age. After all, nowadays 56 is pretty much solid middle age as compared to long ago, when life spans were much shorter, a woman of 12 or 13 was prime marriage material, and a guy my age was pretty much considered a waste of food.
Every once in a while, though, I get a whiff of mortality. The thought that I have four grandchildren, the oldest of whom will be 8 in April, is a bit sobering (although I have to say that my father, healthy and happy at 85 with eleven grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, would probably think I'm overreacting). I also have what Dad once called a "curfew body" - all the joints close up at 10:00 and don't open again until afternoon.
Over at Billions of Versions of Normal yesterday, Mike posted an item (#317) called "Retarded Grandparents" that was supposedly reported by a teacher...it's a hysterical piece allegedly written by a school child that relates his visit to the place where Grandma and Grandpa live now that they're "retarded." Half of me laughed till tears ran down my cheeks; the other half flashed back to visiting my mother as she wasted away in an Alzheimer's care facility.
Watching the long, slow decline of a beautiful, well-educated and erudite lady wasn't pretty, and is one of the reasons I keep up this blog and do other things to keep my mind active and alert. As I wrote yesterday about my Bucket List, I plan on being around to dance at my grandchildren's weddings and tell stories to at least one great-grandchild, and that's not going to happen unless I take care of myself now (I'm reminded of the line from Jimmy Buffett's song Fruitcakes in which his girlfriend criticizes him because 'I treat my body like a temple, you treat yours like a tent').
I can't let the sore feet, the arthritis in the neck, and the curfew joints get in the way of making the most of the time I've got here. There are grandchildren to be played with and educated, things go be blogged about, books to be read, letters to be written, and ladies to be danced with. Especially ladies to be danced with. I'm not ready for that retarded place in Florida just yet.
Help keep me stimulated so I can put it off as long as possible.
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
3 comments:
You're way ahead of my dad. He's 60 and only one grandchild!
I'll have to send him that link to the Retarded Grandparents though....
Your father is a good example of how to stay young.
I know of more and more people that are slowly dying of Alzheimer's. Not a good way to go. My own mother dropped dead of a heart attack. That's the way I pick. The Red Fox way. Hand over the heart, staring at the heavens, hollering "I'M COMIN' EDITH!"
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