June approaches, the summer solstice nears as does another natal anniversary. This one brings me within one year of the six decade mark. Birthdays never held much sway for me, but never did I think I would reach this plateau.
At my birth, Dwight Eisenhower was president, the Lone Ranger’s last radio episode aired, the first Fender Stratacaster
appeared, the H-Bomb was tested on Bikini Atoll, Bill Haley & the Comets
recorded “Rock Around the Clock. Television’s glowing cathode
ray was my nightlight; nascent rock n’ roll my lullaby.
This big, blue marble and I have gone through some changes. Strange waters have flown under that bridge.
Years ago overexertion from physical activities caused sore muscles - lugging a refrigerator up five fights of stairs, a grueling pick up basketball or football game, carrying a keg through a snowstorm. Now I wake up with pains attributed to "sleeping funny". Sleeping? Really? The creator's sense of humor manifests itself in my corporeal planned obsolescence.
A familiar adage says, "You are only as old has you feel." My corollary adage is, "You are only as old as you feel those first 15 minutes after waking up." That puts me closer to the century mark. The day's initial moments involve clearing stuffed nasal passages, working out kinks in the neck, shoulders and lower back. That's if it's a good day.
Unnatural sounds emerge as I struggle to unblock airways, stretch out muscles and joints to greet the dawn. The noises accompanying my morning ablutions are frightening.
Of course these are all physical symptoms of aging. Mentally...well to be honest, I try not to delve too much into that. Regular readers of these ramblings have a cursory glimpse of my mental morass. Discretion, decorum and dread of indictment preclude me from disclosing a more realistic peek into my psyche.
Maturity, more accurately, aging has not affected my consciousness. Like Peter Pan, I have never grown up. Something inside of me has kept the wonder, curiosity and mischievousness of childhood alive. I consider it a blessing; others probably consider it something quite different. As ever - BB
"So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!" - from Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
Years ago overexertion from physical activities caused sore muscles - lugging a refrigerator up five fights of stairs, a grueling pick up basketball or football game, carrying a keg through a snowstorm. Now I wake up with pains attributed to "sleeping funny". Sleeping? Really? The creator's sense of humor manifests itself in my corporeal planned obsolescence.
A familiar adage says, "You are only as old has you feel." My corollary adage is, "You are only as old as you feel those first 15 minutes after waking up." That puts me closer to the century mark. The day's initial moments involve clearing stuffed nasal passages, working out kinks in the neck, shoulders and lower back. That's if it's a good day. Unnatural sounds emerge as I struggle to unblock airways, stretch out muscles and joints to greet the dawn. The noises accompanying my morning ablutions are frightening.
Of course these are all physical symptoms of aging. Mentally...well to be honest, I try not to delve too much into that. Regular readers of these ramblings have a cursory glimpse of my mental morass. Discretion, decorum and dread of indictment preclude me from disclosing a more realistic peek into my psyche.
Maturity, more accurately, aging has not affected my consciousness. Like Peter Pan, I have never grown up. Something inside of me has kept the wonder, curiosity and mischievousness of childhood alive. I consider it a blessing; others probably consider it something quite different. As ever - BB"So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!" - from Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie
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