One of the common proclivities of youthful idle is to look up the family tree at the proverbial weird uncle, (every one has one) or the older senior adults and examine them. Their fashion habits…who thought black socks were a great idea with shorts? Or their eating habits. I could never understand why dentures had to dance when an older person talked.
We are bound and determined we would never do that. We would never dress embarrassingly: I mean an honest wardrobe malfunction aside. I mean why is it the last thing men tell themselves before appearing in public, check the fly, check the tie..is routinely missed? Isn’t humanness about self awareness? We get bombarded with reminders about what to wear, what to buy, how to take care of oral hygiene and other hygienic issues.
Before you cast another stone at someone who makes a faux pas…let us be humbled when it happens to us. I was recently digging into a cheese and tomato sandwich and thought wow that tomato skin is tough. Another bite same result. Finally took the sandwich apart to discover a nice paper wrapper under the havarti cheese slice..with two bites out of it. No I would never do that. Well I did. Old age sneaks up unaware, be vigilant and please for the sake of fashion men: never wear black socks and sandals and shorts. If you ever see me sink that far, put me out of my misery.
Well life moves on. I turned 51 recently and somehow my blog lost steam. My brother warned me people, including employers could read my blog and i could ‘get in trouble’..hmm think I haven’t been there once or twice if fifty years.
I consulted my ‘legal’ team and they said, ‘You are on your own’ I looked myself in the mirror and said,” the mission is to make people smile, or on a good day laugh, is it worth the risk?’ Oh yeah I said so here I am ..back at blogging and ready to face the storm and use typical self deprecating Canadian humor to make your day a little bit brighter.
Today I thought of the weather forecasters who so diligently guide our lives using a mixture of fear, fatalism and down right inaccuracy many times. So I posted this on FB and today it will have to be your smile for the day.
after ‘weathering’ another ‘the sky is falling’ weather forecast only to have a beautiful sunny day i thought of a new weather forecasting system. Get your average 8 month old child and place them out side for 30 seconds and them have them forecast: ‘gaga’ means good weather: ‘baba’ means bad weather: ‘ma ma’ means really nice weather for the next two days’ and ‘da da’ means a hurricane, thunderstorms or snow’..take your pick..apparently most weatherman do.. sign anyway it was a beautiful day..or I mean ‘ma ma’…
I hope you all have a ma ma day tomorrow.
The Mouse. A simple name that can produce great fear. Whether it is a field mouse or a house mouse it doesn’t matter they can scare you by their sudden appearance, random running and possible diseases.
I have to admit my mouse fears go back to age 8 or 9 at the Canadian National Exhibition. The ride was called, “The Mouse”…small roller coaster like ride…not super fast, not super hilly but just like a mouse it was shifty and sudden. Especially when we hit the corner and it looked for all the world like you were going to drive off the end and with a sudden shift you were going in a new direction; having left your heart if not your lunch at the previous corner. My brother tells me I screamed like a girl. I can’t remember. Trauma does that to you.
I recently confronted my fear with the new version. The Crazy Mouse. Same idea, only more up and down and twisting. They say the way to deal with fear is to confront it. So twenty two dollars later with my daughter and her boyfriend in tow, we confronted THE MOUSE. “Bring it on I said”.to that mythical mouse. After 4.6 minutes of twisting, shuttering, spinning and facing the fear of driving off the edge, we made it.
When the car stopped I checked everything out. Neck sore but still moving, no screaming echo, pants dry, grin on face. I BEAT THE MOUSE. My childhood nemesis was dead.
Amazing what you can do at fifty after all.
I saw a concert last night. One of the big stars from the 70’s or 60’s or 50’s…the audience looked pretty gray. My daughter came for ten minutes and said,” Dad I think we are going to go; too many Q-tips around here”. If you have to ask what that means, well you are too old. I had to admit though I was on the young side of the audience.
I sat through all the great hits and of course knew most of the words. It didn’t matter though, nostalgia is a powerful drug no matter what age you are at. And I overdosed on it last night. Now the really cool thing about this performer was he could still sing at age 75,(I couldn’t sing at any age) and he is an amazing guitar player.
This morning I dropped my car off at my garage. Another 75 year old who works everyday not because he has to but because he wants to. He knows cars inside out as only someone who is in the business that long can.
Earlier this week I had lunch with my geography teacher from high school..also 75. His life is as full as you can get. He works at a variety of projects from driving older widows cars to Florida, to working at his church but mostly getting to know people and helping them.
These three men encouraged by example…when life seems grim look for the people who are keeping on..living with vision and passion.
There is hope for me yet because I am fifty after all.