Thursday, December 1, 2016


       Another wonderful slice of life from a member of my writing class.  Many of us can relate to this one, and if not, put it in your pocket as someday it will all ring true to you!  Enjoy!


Last week my son-in-law was lamenting the decline of his aging Honda Pilot. Its speedometer had logged over 100,000 miles. The tires needed to be replaced for the third time. The air conditioner was sporadically blowing a fuse. The transmission was in need of a $2,500 plus service overhaul. Over the years, it had been a dependable and trustworthy family member. It had reliably transported the clan on their copious outings and adventures. It had safely delivered both their daughters home from the hospital. This automobile was an essential member of the household. Now the car was getting up there in years and beginning to exhibit signs of wear and tear requiring more service visits and more money. My son-in-law’s conclusion, “We need a new car!”

I could totally identify with this vehicle and its physical and cosmetic decline. Hell, I am this vehicle! Unfortunately, trading myself in for a new and improved version is not an option open to me.  Since the list for the joys of getting old can be correlated to the movie titled “The NeverEnding Story,” I will stick to the highlights as I see them.

I fondly remember the good old days when I could hold my liquor. College consisted of boundless keg parties and for those of us with palates that were more sophisticated, Ripple and Mad Dog were our poisons of choice. Recently, I was shopping in Safeway and stopped to taste Champagne samples offered by a vendor. There were three varieties available with one being a $100 Parisian brand and the other two, progressively cheaper. I started with $100 kind. I was given a sample in a diminutive plastic cup and smugly chugged the few drops. Instantaneously it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was well on my way to being inebriated. I declined the offer of more tasters and spent the next 30 minutes in the store trying to clear my foggy brain so I could drive home.” How pathetic,” I thought to myself.

Speaking of not being able to hold my alcohol anymore, heck I can’t hold my water either! My most pressing thoughts anytime I leave home are bathroom locations. Let us not forget the recurrent nightly bathroom excursions! Too bad you can’t earn frequent flyer miles for this malady and at least be looking for bathrooms in tropical exotic locals!

Another drawback of aging is shrinkage! It reminds me of back in the 80’s when my children placed a large colored flexible sheet replica of an object or character in a heated oven and it would reduce to a small hard form. They were aptly baptized Shrinky Dinks. The same phenomenon has happened to me sans the heat as a catalyst. My three-plus inch loss in stature has earned me the nickname “Shorty” from my, now taller than me, grandchildren. Reaching higher than the second shelf in my kitchen cabinets has now become a futile mission without the aid of a step stool. My once powerful, well-toned body has lost most of its muscle mass leaving me to live in a squishy sack of osteoporosis-ravaged bones. My five-year-old granddaughter finds it very entertaining to make my spongy skin wiggle and jiggle like jello. Are we having fun yet, Shorty? 

I remember as a kid that one of my favorite cereals was Rice Krispies: Fill the bowl, pour the milk, and listen to the magic cereal snap, crackle and pop! Now days, to get the same sound effects all I have to do is walk!

As you age, memory starts to fade. I constantly find myself searching for some misplaced item. I ransack my house only to find the missing culprit right in front of me in plain sight or, as in the case of my cell phone last week, in the recycle bin! Don’t ask! It gets worse as your diligently seek the lost item and then suddenly can’t remember what it is you are looking for—a double whammy! Now what was I saying? I forgot—never mind!

My social life has definitely changed because of my advancing years. I find myself spending more time going to doctor appointments than I do having lunch with my friends. What is even more distressing is that some weeks I use my medical card more than my debit card. I actually think I have more doctors than I do friends on Facebook! Now that is depressing! It is sobering life moment when you have to accept the fact that your new BFF’s name (best friends forever) is fiber! How do I love thee—let me count the ways!

Another big change for me in my twilight years revolves around my sense of style. My fashion credo simply stated:  If it’s not the big C (comfortable) then it’s not for me! My old age idea of a sexy negligée are sweats at least one size too big! Evening wear attire consists of jeans, sneakers, and a clean sweatshirt. Well ironed clothes—gone! My thinking on this is:  If I don’t iron my clothes then people will think that my crinkly attire and wrinkled skin are all part of my effort to put together a fabulous matching ensemble. Besides, ironing my face would be painful!

Physical changes abound, and every day it seems like you have to adjust to a new normal for your body. Your aging teeth are clinging to life, and the dentist has banned you from eating anything sticky, chewy, hard, or sugary. Your once dazzling white smile has a grayish yellowish tinge. Glasses are your new best friend when you can find them. The phrase “What did you say?” becomes a daily part of your life as you struggle to adjust to hearing loss. What you hear and what is said is not always the same thing. Someone says, “Do you want to go to dinner?” Your reply,” You really think I am looking thinner?” Hearing loss can be difficult in social settings even with a hearing aid; background noise can totally isolate you from the social interaction. Your once unblemished skin is now host to a variety of alien growths and age spots. When your five-year-old granddaughter asks if you are part leopard you have no other choice but to smile sweetly and growl!  I often find myself relating stories about some old folk that I encountered or observed. Then reality sets in and I feel obliged to fess up and explain to the listener that these oldsters were my age. Then I feel better until the next time when I end up doing the same thing all over again!

I took out my driver’s license the other day and realized that I now actually look like the worst picture of me ever taken. I must need new glasses because that just can’t be! That woman is old! Say it can’t be true!

As my grandparents and parents aged, they fell into rigid routines of doing everything at the same time every day. I found it amusing and monotonous as a younger person! Well, guess what. I have become them! I eat my meals exactly at the same time every day. I go to bed 11 p.m. sharp and rise at 6:30 a.m.  I go for daily walks at a designated time. They would get upset if something disrupted their schedule, and I have become the same way. I have lost a lot of my spontaneity. I addictively crave the comforts and safety of my routines and my home. I must add that I have lived alone for the last 20 years and am sure that has been a major influence on my lack of spirit of adventure. Stepping out of my comfort zone gets harder and harder for me with each advancing year. When I was younger, I promised myself that becoming old and boring would not be an option. I was so wrong!

“Would you like some cheese with your whine Shorty?

I could go on and on about this subject, but I won’t. This last leg of our life journey is often referred to as the “Golden Years.” Frankly, on some days they feel more like the “Rusty Years.” They are golden from the standpoint that at this juncture you get to sit back and witness the fruits of your labor. You watch your adult children with pride and love as they follow and fulfill their own dreams.  Then a lightning bolt moment strikes, and they grace you with the greatest gift of all–grandchildren.  An Irish saying puts it all into perspective, “Children are the rainbow of life. Grandchildren are the Pot of Gold.” Therefore, I can honestly say that yes for sure these are my golden years!
And by the way, Squishy Shortsuff prefers chocolate with her whine!

-- Valerie S.
Nov. 15, 2016

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