On Being Old -- 2

                                                             

I surrounded myself with old friends. Their kidding and reminiscing prevented me from thinking about the west side of the mountain. The family ties were strong and talk of being kids swirled around me.

My high school buddies laid it on and never let me get away with a thing – just like the old days.

My radio group came in like the affair was black tie -- some even in tuxes. Naturally being the hams they are, they presented me with a poem and a letter from a fictitious friend extolling the pleasures of being old.

The next group was the neighbors who now kindly look after the old one.

I enjoyed myself no end. How rich I am to have these friends, I thought. The candy was strewn everywhere. I don’t think I’ll have any problems navigating this new phase of my life.
Ciao.

On Being Old -- 1

Now that I’ve I crossed the bridge I must change my blog. Of course I will still be looking for daily candy. However, I will be including reminiscences of the past, which goes to show there is no expiration date on my candy. Hence the new title of the blog
This first installment comes from the not too distant past. We begin with the event where some of my friends gathered to help this soul across the bridge to the west side of the mountain – my 70th Birthday Party.

My good friend, Norb Weisman, succinctly out lined life’s travels in a poem he wrote and presented to me on this new side of life. I want to share his verse with you.

                                                       Rights of Passa

The time has come, the walrus said, 

The time to turn the page.

We’re done with ships and sealing wax,

 Let’s deal with youth and age.

The young are light, they effervesce,

For them there's no tomorrow.

The time is now, today’s the day,

No thought of what’s to follow.

The years race by on winged feet.

They heap upon each other.

And suddenly, the young are gone.

What happened here? Oh brother!

I didn’t see those years go by.

I was busy having fun.

But suddenly I turn around and look…

My son is twenty-one.

And thirty-one, and thirty-five.

Good Lord, what shall I do?

My mirror tells the horrid truth,

My God, I’m sixty-two.

The end is near, it will arrive.

I know that now and sure as hell,

Just look…

I’m sixty-five.

I guess it’s really not so bad,

The shape I’m in is great.

Why the heck should I complain,

I’m only sixty-eight.

Sixty-eight! I’m sixty-eight!

Did you hear what I said?

The rite of passage fixes in,

My God, I’m almost dead.

Sixty-nine! I’m sixty-nine!

Where is the humor here?

To face the coming echelon

I feel the grip of fear.

At seventy, you’ve had it pal,

And that really isn’t funny!

No matter, how much hair you have,

No matter, how much money.

Your doctor looks at you and smiles,

“Your tests all came out fine.”

That’s very well for him to say,

He’s only thirty-nine.

You look around at all your friends

And that’s what makes you wary.

The ancient ones, they grip your hand,

Good Lord, that’s really scary.

I really don’t know what to do.

Well, why not celebrate?

I can’t turn back the hands of time.

Rose, you pick a date!

I’ll soon surround myself with friends,

Old ones, old and sickly.

And I will romp and play the boy,

My youth will come back quickly.

But still, one item I must have

And things will be just dandy.

My single aphrodisiac,

Just let me have my candy.

               ***

I needn’t say more.  This day I found my first piece of candy

Ciao.