OLD-MAN-RAMBLING

          It's been over a month since I sat my bony butt down and wrote a blog.  It's not that I don't have much to say, because what old man doesn't have a lot to say?  Man, you never want to be cornered somewhere by an old man, they'll just go on and on about the good old days when they did this and they did that; things were wonderful then, not like they are now.  At least with me, when I put some thoughts down here on the blog, it's not a big deal; just one click of the mouse and it's good-bye, adios, see you later - delete, delete, delete, if a person doesn't like what I've written.  And it's odd too, when writing a blog, because often when I write about serious stuff that should concern everyone, the readership dramatically drops.  Now I don't blame anyone for not reading the serious stuff, pollution, toxic waste, radiation leakage, etc., etc., etc. because I have to agree, it's down right depressive; it's enough to make my sphincter slam shut for a number of days and just turn me into a cranky old coot.   

          I was talking to my wife this morning, "Sarah", I said as I warmed my thick-stockinged feet by the hot wood stove and sipped on a hot cup of goldenrod tea I picked myself while the tiny yellow flowers were still in bloom, "I can't believe it.  What I'm lookin' at is the end of my life.  This is it for me, Fosterville, of all places.  It's highly unlikely that I will ever live in another place."  

        Now don't get me wrong, I live in a great place; it's just at this age and the present conditions; I'm most likely going to die right here on this property, perhaps sitting in the old rocking-chair by the wood stove or face down on the keyboard - sure as hell hope it's not face down in the chicken coop.  There was a time (now this is old-man-rambling) you may want to hit the delete button now, it's just dang hard to see a future for me, other than getting older and older and dying.  Cripes a'mighty, there was a time when I was able to leap a bar stool in a single bound and didn't give a crap where I laid my head down, and now, taking a nap in a comfortable place can actually be a highlight in this old man's day.  But what I mean about a future, most people are looking forward towards a raise, a better position or a great career move, marriage, kids, a home, yadda,-yadda-yadda; whatever.  I mean I've had a lot of that in my life and still do to a certain degree but those ambitions of years ago eventually just hitched their asses to an old man's bod, where the energy level is hitting minus degrees on the thermometer of life; if I didn't wear semi-tight jeans, my sagging ass would be bouncing off the calves of my legs with every step I took.  

          A lot of people in my generation made the mistake or planning for their retirement; to me, that's like planning for your death; what future is there in that?  That's like when an insurance agent, years ago, was trying to convince me to buy a large policy and said it was like an investment.  Now what is all this crap about an investment in dying - hell, I'll be dead forever when the time comes to cash in; don't think there will be any Walmarts, love-boat cruises, or just laying about sipping on pina coladas or at least, I sure as hell hope not.  I could never imagine working at the same job, for the same company, for the same boss, for just a pay-cheque, possible bonuses, vacation time, you know, all the little carrots they hang in front of a person's nose as the wrinkles start appearing, muscles start sagging, you know, when women's tits bounce off their knees and men's noses continually drip, mortgages keep getting larger, education keeps getting more expensive etc., etc., so the little carrot they keep dangling in front of your nose, is never really reachable.  Nah, that was never for me.  Of course, even though I think I could say, I retired around the age of 42 - now that's not to say, I stopped working totally; I mean I've never drawn welfare and only once did I collect EI for a year or was it 2 - that's the thing about being an old man, the memory isn't as sharp as it once was.  And now, at 72, I feel I've been working physically harder than I ever did during my younger years - mind you - could be because I ache a lot now, my joints are stiff and the majority of my strength has gathered on a mudslide heading towards a 6' hole in the ground.

          I know, I know, I'm ranting now, I'm sounding like the old man I am.  And if you've already hit the delete key, well that's no problem - I mostly just yammer away to hear myself talk; keeps me in touch with my being and makes me realize I'm not dead yet.  It wouldn't surprise me if the last words I hear are my own if I live long enough, "Will somebody please change this damnable diaper, I've just shit myself!" - cheers, eh!