Monday, March 25, 2013
Here I am, after a lovely morning walk through the Meserve Preserve with my dogs. The sun is shining. Schweitzer is all but sparkling against the blue sky.
Roosters are crowing; geese are honking, ducks are quacking and awakening cow pies are smelling really bad.
It's spring when we embrace all living things, announcing their presence to the world.
It's a time of rebirth of inner energy and a time for birth of cute, young creatures waiting for momma to bring the goods. We marvel at welcome hints of color popping from still brown, cold ground.
Who could feel anything but euphoria on such a morning?
I felt very euphoric----until I read the birthdays on Facebook and later read the Monday paper where Rebecca Nappi stuns us back to reality with feature headlines like "Aging Boomers."
Yup, Harmon was on the birthday list this morning. Harmon and I started first grade together at Lincoln School. And, from the days of our first grade meeting, I've always remembered Harmon's birthday and Lesle's and Smokey's---all within the same week in March.
Sadly, Smokey is no longer with us, but I'll always think of him during this week.
Harmon's birthday always had a particular impact on me. The date signaled exactly three months until mine. I used to like that bit of trivia.
Now, I'm not so sure. That means three months from today----on paper and calendar-wise, people can refer to me as aging boomer with more credibility than ever. I'll be 66 and signing on for Social Security.
Of course, after the furor over the local paper's story where the reporter referred to a 62-year-old as an "elderly man," it doesn't take much to be old.
Still, facts and figures bring it all into so much more clarity.
Rebecca publishes this Monday morning column about us Boomers, and she likes to throw in little reminders of the fun to come as each day passes in our final quarter of life.
This morning: your kids probably aren't gonna be able to take care of you.
Then, she offers an article about some specific Boomers taking care of their parents and blends in the nasty suggestion that we should not expect the same treatment which the mama bird above will enjoy after she feeds and nourishes her babies and they grow up and eventually come back to the nest to care for her.
Good news, Rebecca. Thanks.
If that wasn't enough, she points out things that are gonna or are already happening to our aging bodies. More earwax. Weird vertebrae doing weird things up around our necks, causing us to lean forward from the neck up.
And, the real self-esteem killer: our noses will grow longer and thinner and droop.
Somehow, the earwax doesn't bother me cuz only I know that I've sure been cleaning my ears out a lot lately.
And, the vertebrae? How many times do we look at ourselves sideways in the mirror? Well, I do on occasion, but it's usually to see how much my paunch is sticking out.
There's not much I can do about the next level up cuz tightening the straps just gets too uncomfortable, so I just don't look there.
Guess after this morning's revelation, I'll have to check out the neck view from now on and see if my head is hanging more than it did when I was still three months younger than 66.
The nose? That's always been a particularly sensitive part of my body. I know it's already big, and I fear for the day when it gets longer and thinner and starts to droop.
That's gonna be pretty ugly. I think after I leave this computer I'm gonna go get the ruler, do some measuring, take some side nose view photos and start comparing.
Just plain awful to think about these things happening to our very own selves, especially our noses, which, in my mind and on my face, is bad enough to begin with.
There IS a plus to this elderly nose growth. It might be a lot easier extending my tongue to the tip of my nose. That's always been an icebreaker in really boring meetings when another person across the room is just as bored as you are.
And, as I get older, I'll probably be looking for ways to humor myself.
So, on this spring morning, I'll quit worrying about my nose and let my eyes and ears take in all the awakening beauty of youth.