Stan's World: Aging vs. The AlternativeSubmitted by S. F. Ehrlich Associates, Inc. on June 30th, 2017
June 30, 2017
Whenever someone tells me that aging is hard, I’ve taken to replying “The alternative is less attractive.” I guess I get away with saying that because, well, I’m apparently also aging.
Though I do my share of age-related griping, it intrigues me to read about, or listen to, how others are handling the aging process. While I like to think I’m doing okay, I notice that a larger portion of my daily exercise is spent on stretching, or balance, or what my trainer calls ‘endurance.’ I’ve even grudgingly accepted the fact that the Military Police Corps will not take me back should we go to war with North Korea.
But there are signs, some more subtle than others, that others are noticing that my youth is behind me. On weekends, for example, I’ve been known to indulge my sweet tooth a time or two, so it wasn’t unusual to see me walk into the local bakery last Saturday morning. I was a little surprised, however, when the young lady who sold me my chocolate cigar pastry (which I highly recommend) asked me if I wanted a shopping bag after she placed it in a small paper sack.
Do I look so frail as to not be able to carry a single pastry in a small paper bag? (The car was parked all the way across the street.) Or did the gym attire make me look both old and homeless, thus necessitating the shopping bag as my suitcase to carry about town?
After I was able to stay awake for the entire car ride home (it’s about one entire mile), I walked into my house and heard the iPhone ping. I looked down to see a message that said my parked car had been located. (Fortunately it was located still parked in my driveway.) Was the reminder a mere function of a parking app, or did someone at Apple HQ decide that I now require parking alerts when I’m home? (Is this how they’re going to use artificial intelligence?)
I subscribe to the old axiom, things in threes, so I’ve been awaiting the third sign that I’m getting older. Perhaps it will occur this weekend, when my family helps my mom celebrate her 95th birthday. Should a stranger walk by and ask who’s blowing out the candles, I’ll nod knowingly, smile politely, and mutter an expletive under my breath. I know…the alternative is still less attractive.