Aging brings perspective to oldest of questionsPublished 9:51am Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Boys will be boys.
The other day my son asked me, “Gettin’ any?”
“You mean ‘older?’ I had another birthday the other day,” I told him.
“No, Old Man. I mean are you ‘gettin’ any?’” he persisted with a wink.
I told him that I get a good six hours at night and a nap during the day.
“No. That’s not what I meant, Pops,” he replied laughing. He leaned over and whispered something in my ear. I smiled and said, “You mean sax. No, I don’t play the saxophone. I never did.”
“Stop, Dad. Think real hard. Remember when you were young?” he prodded me.
Of course, I knew what he was getting at, but darned if I was going to give him the satisfaction of a straight answer.
Besides, he was getting a little too personal for my taste.
He wouldn’t let it go.
“I’m talking about sex. They say elks do it into old age 10 or 15 times a night,” he taunted.
“Don’t remind me,” I grumbled. “I joined the Lions. The only excitement we have is serving pancakes to elevate cholesterol levels.”
He gave up at last.
Later his attempt at humor got me thinking: I must be a senior citizen.
The signs are everywhere.
I started writing a letter to Tiger Woods and I told him, when he meets a beautiful woman, who has a great smile, soulful eyes, long legs, more curves than a baseball pitcher could ever imagine and then I forgot what point I was making and threw the letter away.
I’m the life of the party … even if it lasts until 8 p.m.
I’m very good at opening childproof caps …. with a hammer.
I get excited when I get mail even if it is addressed to “Current Resident.”
I read Playboy magazine.
I’m smiling all the time because I can’t hear a thing others are saying.
I’m sure everything I can’t find is in a safe secure place, somewhere.
I never miss a doctor’s appointment and occasionally show up in his office even when I don’t have an appointment just to look at the magazines.
I flirt with every woman I meet and then forget her name.
I watch “Jersey Shores” on television and have bad thoughts about Snooky or heartburn. I can’t tell which.
I tried on an old pair of Speedos and when I stood in front of the mirror I fell over laughing.
Yes, I’m a senior citizen and the “s” word has taken on a whole new meaning in my life.
Today, I do more counseling than conquering. I am resigned to sharing advice with men unwise in the ways of love.
I had an opportunity last summer — the requests don’t come that often — to help a man in marital distress.
He was a rural Lyle farmer, who called me for help with a problem and I gave it to him.
A week later I hopped on my bicycle and rode over to his place to see if my advice worked.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I pedaled down the farm lane and over to the machine shed, where I saw the door open.
When I peeked inside, I saw my friend doing a slow and sensual striptease in front of an old green Oliver tractor.
Buttocks clenched, he performed a slow pirouette, and gently slid off first the right strap of his overalls, followed by the left. He then hunched his shoulders forward and in a classic striptease move, let his overalls fall down to his hips, revealing a torn and frayed plaid shirt. Then, grabbing both sides of his flannel shirt, he ripped it apart to reveal his T-shirt underneath. With a final flourish, he tore the T-shirt from his body, and tossed his baseball cap onto a workbench.
Having seen enough, I rushed in and said, “What the heck are you doing?”
Startled, he told me, “Jeez, you scared the bejeezers out of me.”
“Are you insane?” I demanded.
“You know, me and the Ol’ Lady been having trouble lately in the bedroom department, and you told me I should do something sexy to a tractor.’”
If you don’t get this joke, you’re a senior citizen beyond help.
n Thursday on Insight: George Will