Be Careful What You Wish For

Remember when you were a kid?  I am having more and more trouble doing just that, but sometimes a memory bursts through the fog created by the 70’s and I have a flashback to childhood.  One of the memories that haunts me the most is remembering how I wished I was older. 

You know what I mean.  You can’t wait to be tall enough to ride the cool rides at the amusement park.  You can’t wait to be old enough to drive.  You can’t wait to be old enough to drink legally.  That particular goal of mine was tarnished considerably by Florida law.  In the 70’s (wait, I can almost picture it…there it is) the legal drinking age was 21.  Upon the occasion of one’s 21st birthday it was traditional to gather a group of your closest friends, go out and get trashed; behavior that is a lot of why the memory is increasingly vague.  My birthday is November 2 which is very close to election day.  In 1973, as I anticipated my right of passage, Florida was voting on a bill to change the legal drinking age.  As luck would have it, the day before my birthday the legal drinking age was lowered to 18.  So, was I supposed to go out and get stupid in the company of a bunch of high schoolers?  In protest I went and gorged myself at the local Baskin Robbins.

 I was as guilty as anyone of wishing I was older than I was.  In retrospect I should have been hanging on to the simplicities of youth.  The time before jobs, taxes, kids of my own wishing they were old enough to get out of the house.  And parents, don’t believe that myth about “empty nest syndrome.”  Don’t waste time wishing they were still around because they WILL move back in.  All I can say is continue to treat them nicely because they are the ones who will be picking your nursing home, and it ain’t gonna be in the back part of their house, either.  I am not sure I want that anyway.  Who wants their kid telling them, “Wake up, sleepy head.”  “I don’t care if you don’t like tofu, there are plenty of hungry kids who would love to have what you have,”  “Where did you leave your teeth this time?”

As often as I wished I were older, I very seldom find myself wishing I were younger.  Oh, there are times.  Like playing softball (yes, I still play softball), except now I have to hit a triple to get to first.  I still play second base and I still go to my left very well after that hot grounder, but it is tough making the throw after falling down and rolling several times.  I recently played a game against a church at which I had volunteered with their music program for 10 months, so we knew each other well.  “Come on, old man, you ain’t got nothing.”  So I went four for four and, each time I got to first, proudly called out, “Courtesy runner.”  Kinda takes the sting out of the hard liner to left.

But for the most part, I am content with my age.  I was at a store the other day and someone was giving out samples of some antioxidant, energy drink that was supposed to extend your life by 10 to 15 years.  I told him, “Why would I want that?  I have a reservation at the banquet table with the King of the universe.”  I’m not sure I want to put that off for another 15 years of living in the nursing home wondering where in the world my teeth are this time.

Tags: child rearing, humor, retirement