Readers Who Write

There’s an old joke: You know you’re getting old when you bend down to tie your shoe and you look around to see if there’s anything you can do while you’re down there.

Being an old guy, I know the feeling.

There’s a particular way it’s done — I call it the old man squat. You’ve seen it: butt out, awkward angle. It’s because many of us have bad backs and sore knees. Yes, we all experience creeping decrepitude — if we’re lucky. Someone once asked long ago film star Maurice Chevalier how it felt to be old. He said, “Not bad, considering the alternative.”

Used to be people reached my age (er, uh, mid-70s), they headed for the rocking chair. Now, thanks to modern medicine, we’re all out there clogging the supermarket aisles and taking too long to sit down at the movie theater.

But being old is still a surprise. A few months ago, I stepped out of the shower, looked in the mirror and thought, “What’s my grandfather doing here?”

As my late sister used to say, “Getting old is pigeon poop.” Our skin gets thinner, uh literally not metaphorically. We forget things. Marriage is beneficial here because your spouse can act as backup, as in, “Dear, don’t let me forget my wallet this time.”

Alzheimer’s is the great fear, but there are others. For men, it’s hair. I’m getting thin on top, so I like to hang out with bald guys, makes me look better by comparison. But I’m just another old guy losing his hair. Instead, it’s growing out of my ears. Oh, the indignity!

Some years ago I felt I was in danger of becoming terminally grumpy. Then I spent some time with some truly grumpy old men and that cured me. No fun.

I was driving down the street one day when I saw a young woman walking a dog and thought, “What a nice looking dog, just the size and type I like”. As I passed I noticed the woman was pretty and realized I’m old now, the dog caught my attention before the woman did.

I don’t mind being old, but the term “elderly” gives me the willies. I’m at that stage where I’ll need to choose between being a coot, a codger or a geezer. Geezer sounds unhealthy probably because it rhymes with wheezer. And coot sounds loony, as in “crazier than a coot.” So I guess I’ll be a codger.

Sometimes I feel like I’m on speaking terms with half the doctors in the valley. But when I’m with other old people we try to avoid talking about ailments, you know, giving an organ recital. The great Satchel Paige said, “If I’d have known I was going to live this long, I’d have taken better care of myself.”

But for those who are of the youth persuasion, it’s not all aches and pains, and forgetting. We’ve accomplished what we are going to accomplish, egos carefully tucked away. We can relax and enjoy, while many of us now have time to volunteer.

And the memories! I cringe at some of them and smile knowingly to myself at others. It’s an old guy thing, you wouldn’t understand. We know our time is limited so we make the most of it. John Lennon said, “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.” I’d add, “Death is what happens when you’re making other plans.” Woody Allen said, “Live every day as if it were your last because one day it will be.”

I gave a talk to a group of people once and joked about being old. Afterwards, a woman came up to me and said you’re not old until you’re 80. It’s true, the older I get the older old gets. So I take it all back — I’m just an apprentice old person.

So you say you want to write?

Go for it.

Send us 500 or so words of scintillating copy. Make it funny. Make it poignant. Make it count. Make it any way you want.

Just don’t cuss. Don’t be boring. And have a point.

If we like it, we’ll run it.

Email submissions to community@rv-times.com. Put “Readers Who Write” in the subject line, and tell us the city where you live.