Thursday, November 8, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
You know what smacks of old fart? I’ll tell you. Reading the obituaries. I rarely, if ever read the obits before the last few years. Now, not only do I read the obits, every few weeks I seem to find someone’s obit that I knew. I’ve given this phenomenon some thought. Many other old farts read the obituaries too. I think we look at the average age expectancy and realize we are much closer to the end than the beginning. I’m not expecting or ready for the big dirt nap yet but I am more aware of the odds.
I can’t discuss this subject without mentioning some choice conversations with my good friend, Bob. Yes, Bob is a few years older than me. I think eight but haven’t really discussed his age with him. Anyway, Bob has a good since of humor and tends to put many subjects into perspective. For instance; last week I asked Bob how he was feeling. Bob’s answer, “How much time do you have”? I asked Bob if he read the obituaries. Bob’s answer, “ Yes I do and today I was disturbed because I noticed everyone that had died was younger than me”! Another day I asked Bob if he had ever thought about taking a golf lesson to improve his unorthodox, chicken wing looking swing. It is really hard to watch. Bob’s answer; “ you don’t mess with a swing that took 50 years to perfect”!
Anyway, getting back to the subject. Mortality. I have come to the realization I am not young anymore. I don’t consider myself old but definitely not young. I’ve talked with people in their eighties. They say the same thing. In their head they still feel young. But in their body...well, you know. I’m not sure who coined the quote, “the only problem with youth is it is wasted on the very young”, but I now understand it better.
My plan. Not exactly a bucket list- but several things I want to do. Work less, play more. I think Jan will tell you this has been my philosophy for the last 38 years. My answer is that 38 years of being a veterinarian is like 266 years at her job of educator, mother, and homemaker. She doesn’t buy that. Me either really, but don’t tell Jan. My plan is to enjoy our joint hobbies & interests; our kids & grandkids; our “golden years”. When do the “golden years” begin? BTW my hip, foot, ankle, neck, & shoulder are hurting. Does that mean anything?