A couple of work buddies talked about their Easter weekend.
Both had visits from grandchildren, and both admitted that naps were needed
after the young ones left. What happened to those of us in my generation: we
got old. The effects are more than a little disconcerting.
I, too, wear out from visits with my grandson Madden. He’s
not a demanding child, but like all seven-year-olds, he is interested in doing
“stuff.” Sometimes the boy wants to hang out and play video games; at other
times, he’s more interested in taking hikes on nearby trails. A couple of years
ago, Madden loved to play kickball, and he’d beg me to join him. I’d roll the
ball, chug through the yard in pursuit of his kicks, and fail to get him out.
The only way I ever got a turn was to declare a 5-run rule per inning. He beat
my brains out.
Now the boy loves football. He always wants to play games.
If his dad is home, I serve as quarter back for both teams. If Nick is away, I
try to convince Madden to run routes as I pass to him. He is accommodating
enough to allow this change to the game to take place. By the time we finish, I
crash into the recliner and nurse aches and pains until naptime takes over.
Sleep is another thing that changes with age. In my 20’s, it
was nothing for me to stay up until the wee hours of the morning. I’d read,
watch television, or engage in social activities. Then I’d sleep late into the
next morning before rising and beginning a new day.
These days, bedtime is embarrassingly early. Getting up for
work has something to do with it, but even on weekends, I find that I’m in bed
long before the 11:00 new airs. Even then, on some evenings I fall into an
unconscious state as I watch television.
To make things worse, my inner alarm clock rings about 5:30
a.m. Gone are the days of lying in bed late. From being a teen who could sleep
until noon or later, I’m now a senior citizen whose feet usually hit the floor
no later than 7 a.m. (on days when I don’t work).
Age has also brought on “pill taking.” Most people know
about what I’m talking. Millions of us are on pills for blood pressure and
cholesterol and a baby aspirin. In my case, I’m also a slave to Nexium for acid
reflux, Mirapex for restless leg syndrome, and the daily vitamin for better
health. I choke down a fistful of pills in the morning and at night. Having to
do so is aggravating, not to mention expensive. I sometimes catch my friends and
me sounding like our parents once did as we discuss pills and aches and pains.
I used to be able to work in the yard all day long. I’d
wheelbarrow loads of mulch or rock; I’d dig weeds and cultivate flowerbeds. I
could mow the yard, finish weed-eating areas, and then go on to other jobs. Other
favorite activities were splitting wood with a maul or grubbing out tree trunks
from land we’d cleared.
Now, I still love to mow and work in the yard. The problem
is that I give out too quickly. I need multiple days to finish projects that I
used to complete in a day. Too, I get “hitches in my giddy-up” when I work
outside too long or too vigorously. A day of work outside leads to my walking
bent over as my aching back rebels. Sometimes I jolt awake in the middle of the
night as my skinny leg develop cramps and Charlie horses. Whew!
Worst of all, my generation too often sounds grumpy. We
complain about the younger generation; some us carp about the government or the
state of world affairs. In general, we sound like a bunch of people who have
never found a minute’s happiness or contentment. How’d we get so hateful and
whiny? Not so long ago we had the world by the tail and loved every experience
as it came around.
I suppose every generation goes through what we baby-boomers
are living now. I’d prefer to be a happier person who doesn’t ache, isn’t tied
to pills, and doesn’t tire so easily. All of us should live by the saying that
“any day above ground is a good one!”
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I’m in the planning stages for a book of my columns. If you
have a favorite one that you’d like for me to include, contact me at joerector@comcast.net and let me know
what it is.
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