I was sitting at the end of the couch watching television when a series of commercials was aired so I looked to my left and saw Barb splitting her time at the other end of the couch reading a book on her Kindle and occasionally glancing up to see the television. The commercials over, I whipped my head back to see the ragtime piano player, Big Tiny Little, performing on the Lawrence Welk Show. This started me thinking: am I aging too much? With our forty-ninth wedding anniversary rapidly approaching, I thought back to yesteryear when we were courting. Where could the years possibly have gone? It seems such a short time ago that my parents had a secret meeting with Barb’s parents to discuss how they thought we were getting too serious. Thankfully, they were right and we are still serious!
With the passage of time, it’s really been bothering me lately, this topic of aging. Beyond my wildest dreams, I had to turn off Lawrence Welk so I could have a serious talk with Barb.
I said, “Barb, do you think I’m really getting old?”
She replied, “Funny you should ask. I just read a book that helps to determine if you are aging. I remember many of the signs. Let me help you out.”
I thought this was great and was hoping I would pass with flying colors, indicating I was in reality 20 years younger than my chronological age.
The first question she asked me was, “How many times have you had to go to the doctor in the last four months?”
Now I realized this was not going to be a fun time. I told her two times to my primary care physician and about a dozen times each to a chiropractor and a physical therapist. But, wait a minute. I think all of those visits may have been related to a 5K race last September that caused me much hip pain. She was about to give me a pass on running in the race at my advanced age until I reminded her I had only walked in the race and a couple hundred yards into the race I fell on asphalt and cracked my noggin open. Oh, darn, that was another time I saw a doctor – at the emergency room.
“Not looking good,” she said. “Any other health issues?”
“Yes,” I replied solemnly. “You know we are very good about going to the dentist for check-ups every six months. Now, I have to see the dentist many times between those appointments because my fillings are getting too old or a tooth gets chipped. When I went to the dentist a couple of weeks ago for one of those interim visits, he explained people are just living too long for their teeth. I’m not sure if he was using me as an example or not.”
Second question, “How’s your hair coming?”
I replied, “Well, it still covers the majority of my head. I’m afraid to hold a mirror up to the back of my head while looking into another mirror to see how bald I am around my crown. Some bad news is I used to be able to tell when I needed a haircut by combing the hair on the front of my head straight forward. When it touched the bridge of my nose, it was time for a haircut. Unfortunately, now my hair, when combed forward, doesn’t even reach my scar from the 5K which is in the middle of my forehead!” Now I take our grandson every five weeks for a haircut and get a haircut when he does whether I need it or not. I think it makes me feel better.
“Not good,” she determines.Third question, “What activities do you like to remember the most?”
“That’s an easy one for me, my youth, when I was playing sports. I was only mediocre so I can recall most of the best shots I made in basketball and the defensive gems I made on the baseball field. My goal was to succeed at any cost, which was quite obvious two times when I was playing touch football. Both times I caught the pass but once I ran into a tree and the other time in the Army I flew completely over a hitching post. Why, I even felt semi-victorious when I was called out on a bunt in a baseball game. The ball went right to the pitcher and the ball beat me to first base by only half a step (and that pitcher was a good fielder). But that wasn’t the end of the story. I remember the wanting to succeed expression on my face as my foot hit the bag. And then, the best, Chuck, who was sitting on the bench, exclaimed he didn’t know I could run so fast.”
Barb then groaned: “This is getting pretty sad.”
I realized things weren’t going my way and before I received my final rating from Barb, I asked her if she wanted to go with me to get the car washed. She looked at me with a glint in her eye and said, “Oh Jeff, you’ve still got it. The author of that book I just read doesn’t know anything about life and aging.”
You see, she obviously remembered every time we get the car washed together, we wait until the car is encased in soapsuds and the wide spaghetti shaped cloths are slapping the car, then we smooch several times and feel like we are getting away with something!
Jeff Hall, Honey Brook, contributes columns to Berks-Mont Newspapers.
