FOR OLDER PEOPLE: WHAT’S IT LIKE?

Who doesn’t like a question directed to ‘older people?’

This was the question from twitter:

I wonder what it’s like for the older people now, who were born in the previous millennium.

How can people born in 1999 be old?

Easy.

Think back to your earliest memories of people. Way back. Got it?

If your memory serves you right, and you’re honest, your earliest recollections include being surrounded by giants.

All parents are huge to little kids. All adults are giants.

For me they were actually giants with my six foot tall grandma, five foot ten mom, six foot two dad, and six foot five uncles.

Freaking giants, one and all.

Now I’m a giant at six foot three (rounded up,) and two hundred twenty-five pounds (rounded down.)

 

Where I grew up on Ohio Street in North Bend, Oregon, older, bigger, kids were a menace.

We little kids built a tree fort in the woods next door. (All Oregonians worthy of the name grew up with a forest next door.)

Older, bigger, kids saw it and tore it down and stole the wood for their own tree fort.

When we smaller kids started prowling around the countryside, as kids do in Oregon, we found a pond with a raft.

So we get on the raft and pole out to the center of the pond feeling like pirates when the fort wrecker kids showed up on the shore and start yelling and throwing rocks.

It was their pond and their raft and we were stuck.

What to do?

We didn’t taunt them with, “Nice throw you wienie-armed little bitches, you’d never make it in Little League you fort wrecking fuckers.”

We had a weak shit-talking game so we poled to the opposite side of the pond to draw the big kids over.

The plan? Since we’d just found the pond we only knew one way out; the way we came in.

The big kids took the bait and we poled like mad for our getaway.

We went back to our street and told the big brothers about it. They talked to the kids.

That ended their menace.

 

High Schoolers Were Older People

There was something magical in late 60’s junior high and seeing local high school football players with a five o’clock shadows instead of faces full of zits and a heat rash.

Throw in a few boils and ingrown hairs for good measure on my smelly teammates.

But the older boys  looked like movie stars and the cheerleaders looked like pin-up girls.

So there was hope things might clear up in a few years.

 

One kid in seventh grade showed up fully formed with a five o’clock shadow, pegged jeans, and pointy shoes.

Add curly black hair stacked on top of a permanent sneer for a teacher’s nightmare.

The kid didn’t want to be there and showed a bad example to other kids wondering where they belonged.

I was in eighth grade and even though the kid was smaller, he was spooky, like he might know how to use a knife.

He stood out like a Fifties throwback on the first day of school.

All that was missing was a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve like Rapid Roy.

On the first day of school a hard-ass ninth grader in a Che Guevara shirt started picking on him.

My pal told him to knock it off and Che wanted to fight. He wanted to fight somebody.

Instead of punching out a seventh grader, he met my pal beside the gym to the left of the main entry.

The older kid got down to business and took a boxing stance with his friends behind him.

Instead of boxing, my pal rushed him, knocked him down, and kicked him in the face when he tried to get up.

Fight over.

 

What It’s Like Being Older

“I may look old, but I don’t feel old.”

You hear that a lot. Along with:

“I might be old, but I look young.”

Then there’s my favorite:

“I can still do everything I’ve ever done.”

Why my favorite?

Because when I hear it I think, ‘You haven’t done enough.’

There is an age when people reflect on their choices.

“I’ll always wonder what being in the military would have been like.”

These folks usually think of themselves as officers and gentlemen, not some lowly grunt doing the shit work, not some Pfc plotting their future beyond their service and marking a calendar for every day closer.

They see themselves wearing a custom leather coat, smoking a corncob pipe, and packing a pair of pearl handled revolvers.

It’s a good retro look.

Then they join a ‘training’ group, buy surplus camo gear, and play ‘Army’ in the deep woods where they accidentally shoot themselves in the leg practicing their quick-draw.

 

“I’ve always wanted to run a marathon.”

Have you? I’ve heard it first hand.

The more ambitious join a running club, add mileage too soon to their training, and get a stress fracture after stepping in a pothole.

But they tried.

Or they find a training partner, do the conditioning, and drive to the race site in car with an exhaust leak that nearly knocks them out before they get there.

 

If you’re under forty and reflecting on choices, I can help.

The Army I joined in 1974 was full of Vietnam Veterans who decided they were just the guys to remake the Army after it was nearly ruined by hippie-draftees.

I was nineteen.

That they were also drafted wasn’t a hinderance; they’d found their home.

No matter what you’d expect, throwing your lot in with the service is nothing like you’ve seen.

It’s every day, every night, and there’s always someone who knows you’re not giving your best effort, even when you tap out.

Once that choke hold slips into place it never lets up. Sure you can breath, but it’s tight.

 

My one marathon, the Seaside Marathon, had a long stretch along Hwy 101 with cars bumper to bumper and blowing fumes.

I was twenty-nine.

My training partner had run it the year before and remembered being incredibly hungry in the middle of it.

For a remedy this year he ate two huge breakfasts.

Five miles in he stopped to hurl in the brush. He waved me along in between gags.

I timed out in 3:32. I was aiming for three hours.

If you’re under fifty and dream of crossing the marathon finish line, go head and take a three hour walk.

After that you’ll make a more informed decision.

 

Older People Today?

Sour old people are easy to find.

Just don’t find one looking back at you in the mirror.

Do a box inventory to see what’s checked and what isn’t.

Graduated from high school? Check.

Graduated from college? Check.

Had a job? Check.

Made it to thirty? Check.

Married your favorite of all time? Check.

Kids? Check.

Now what? Now put something ahead of your own selfish interests.

Yes, I know, you’re not selfish. You’re the least selfish person you know. Check.

Put something else ahead of your own selfish interests then take a look in the mirror.

Looking better? It works every time.

You know what I’m putting ahead of my own selfishness today? Readers from News Break.

They’re coming over to boomerpdx for yesterday’s banger:

WORTH REMEMBERING? IT STARTS WITH EVERYTHING THEN A LITTLE LESS

 

Older People See Things Through A Different Lens. Why Is That?

Hey, wait a minute.

I’m sixty-nine.

When did 69 get so popular?

I’ll figure it out. Until then, see you tomorrow.

Thanks for making time.