Growing Old

By Gil Garcia

We are told that in order to be a good writer one must write about a subject that he or she is familiar with. Now that explains the title I have chosen, and I go forward to explain my experience on this subject.

So now, how does one grow old?  The dictionary defines old as “aged, elderly, and mature.”  Well I am definitely as aged as any block of cheese or bottle of wine, and there is no question that I fit the definition of elderly, and I would like to think that my peers see me as mature. Maybe the dictionary should re-defined old to read: You are old when your bones and joints begin to dictate how long it takes you to get into your underwear.  I have reason to accept this definition.  

I do believe that we who have reached the golden years_ should think of our silvering hair as crowns or rewards of sorts.  In my case, silver falls to the bottom of my tub regularly, and my head grows colder by the day. 

For us men the crown jewels shine no more and are the cause of the well worn carpet trails from our side of the bed to the bathroom.  I wish that someone would list the number of calories we burn in those early morning runs.  Maybe we can sign up to raise money to cure prostate cancer by purchasing blue ribbons and wearing them to bed on a certain night of the year. The blue ribbons would signify the color we turn while standing in front of the toilet (holding our breath, pushing) trying to relieve ourselves. No one ever told me that my lungs and my bladder were connected.

Now days, I look into the bathroom mirror and see wings where I once had muscle. I don’t believe that this is God’s way of preparing me for flight to heaven.  

I have also shrunk two inches according to my doctor and that makes me question__ if I live to be a hundred, and continue to shrink at the same rate, I should be by all accounting methods_ three foot, three inches tall and my butt would be dusting the hardwood floors. My wife need only to fill my britches with floor Wax and say “come here,” to get the floors waxed prior to her AAUW University Women’s meetings. I am always happy (for the sake of our marriage) to do my part. I guess the wax has other beneficial attributes for both my budget and my wellbeing. I no longer have to purchase that expensive hemorrhoid cream.

I guess I could go on and on about old age, but I am sure by now that you realize that I have met the definition of Growing old, so I will leave it there; it’s time for my nap.

Gil Garcia