It's that time of the year when the days are growing longer. The horrible possibilities of January are in the rearview mirror. But it's too early to see birds returning. While I try to live in the present, longing for better weather is difficult to avoid.
Better weather? It's kind of based on the ability to comfortably partake in outdoor activities. I know a lot of people ride their bikes year round. Poppa Jeff votes no. I can only imagine hitting that patch of black ice and ending up with a cast on two of my four limbs. I don't want to think what Molly, my bike, would look like either.
Golf? As long as there is frost in the ground Golf should be avoided. First I'm concerned about the damage that could be done to the golf course. Golf is all about hitting the ball further than your divot. (Piece of sod cut from the surface when the ball is properly struck.) Usually, the divot is replaced in the hole that was created, and it grows back rather quickly. When there is frost on the ground, nothing grows.
Then there is the apparent problem of blood circulation. If my fingers get all tingly and cold when I clean the driveway and sidewalks with my snow thrower you can only guess how they are going to feel while playing golf. Bottom line if I have to wear more than a sweater to fight the weather, I'm not playing.
We've had a light year of snow removal. I don't miss mowing lawn, and of course, that's the downside of summer.
Seniors Only Section
If you're not old enough to get an AARP membership, you can read this, but please Shut up and let the old people complain.
I've noticed a lot of people my age (77), a bit younger, and a bit older, who are doing some awfully strange things with their lives. Most of my peers are involved with things that if you had asked them when they were still working, they would have told you it would never happen.
They are volunteering for everything from helping children learn to read, mentoring teenagers, assisting new business startups and meals on wheels delivery.
The question that comes to mind, particularly for their children is why? I think I know. It's a recognition that the big goals we might have dreamed of are essentially past us. Oh, I know there are Grandma Moses and Cornel Sanders stories, but they are certainly outliers. What drives this behavior is the need to be relevant. Or simply, a reason to get up in the morning.
We know that very often we are being judged for the condition of the world we left to our children. While each generation deals with this transition problem, our generation is living longer. This eliminates the situation where our sons and daughters can curse the heavens for the heritage they received. We're not dead yet.
So with apologies to the occupants of our family tree, I will promise to keep quiet and not start out every explanation with "When I was younger, we..." I won't tell them what I didn't have when I got married or how many jobs I worked to pay for my tuition, first car or my home. I'll try to remember that some of the people I know and talk about are people they've never met, or my kids were two years old the last time they saw them.
I make a good effort not to embarrass them, but I won't let them make me feel like I don't count anymore.
From around a fictitious cracker barrel in an imaginary general store, downwind from the horses, we rode to town on, this is Poppa Jeff singing adios.
Better weather? It's kind of based on the ability to comfortably partake in outdoor activities. I know a lot of people ride their bikes year round. Poppa Jeff votes no. I can only imagine hitting that patch of black ice and ending up with a cast on two of my four limbs. I don't want to think what Molly, my bike, would look like either.
Golf? As long as there is frost in the ground Golf should be avoided. First I'm concerned about the damage that could be done to the golf course. Golf is all about hitting the ball further than your divot. (Piece of sod cut from the surface when the ball is properly struck.) Usually, the divot is replaced in the hole that was created, and it grows back rather quickly. When there is frost on the ground, nothing grows.
Then there is the apparent problem of blood circulation. If my fingers get all tingly and cold when I clean the driveway and sidewalks with my snow thrower you can only guess how they are going to feel while playing golf. Bottom line if I have to wear more than a sweater to fight the weather, I'm not playing.
We've had a light year of snow removal. I don't miss mowing lawn, and of course, that's the downside of summer.
Seniors Only Section
If you're not old enough to get an AARP membership, you can read this, but please Shut up and let the old people complain.
I've noticed a lot of people my age (77), a bit younger, and a bit older, who are doing some awfully strange things with their lives. Most of my peers are involved with things that if you had asked them when they were still working, they would have told you it would never happen.
They are volunteering for everything from helping children learn to read, mentoring teenagers, assisting new business startups and meals on wheels delivery.
The question that comes to mind, particularly for their children is why? I think I know. It's a recognition that the big goals we might have dreamed of are essentially past us. Oh, I know there are Grandma Moses and Cornel Sanders stories, but they are certainly outliers. What drives this behavior is the need to be relevant. Or simply, a reason to get up in the morning.
We know that very often we are being judged for the condition of the world we left to our children. While each generation deals with this transition problem, our generation is living longer. This eliminates the situation where our sons and daughters can curse the heavens for the heritage they received. We're not dead yet.
So with apologies to the occupants of our family tree, I will promise to keep quiet and not start out every explanation with "When I was younger, we..." I won't tell them what I didn't have when I got married or how many jobs I worked to pay for my tuition, first car or my home. I'll try to remember that some of the people I know and talk about are people they've never met, or my kids were two years old the last time they saw them.
I make a good effort not to embarrass them, but I won't let them make me feel like I don't count anymore.
From around a fictitious cracker barrel in an imaginary general store, downwind from the horses, we rode to town on, this is Poppa Jeff singing adios.
Comments
Post a Comment