March 16, 2018
Dear Everyone:
Happy Birthday to me.
I am officially one year older than I was yesterday.
Specifically, I’m now 67.
I have come to the realization that there are some things I’ll never do
again. Like jumping up and
down on a trampoline.
Performing a perfect one-handed
cartwheel on a four-inch-wide
balance
beam. Running after a bus
(thank God!) Charging up and
down the stairs.
When I “retired”—which is to say the Company tossed me out; but they
tossed a full year’s salary with me, so I’m not bitter—someone offered a
Saturday “workshop” on retirement.
One of the “exercises” was to list all the things that you had
always wanted, or intended, to do, but now realized would never happen.
Like buying that backyard trampoline for the great exercise—only
I never was able to afford a house with a backyard so, oh well.
On the Plus Side, there are all those things I always planned on doing
when I retired and had all that “free time”.
Like rereading favorite books.
I’ve actually gone through several series of books that I read
years ago, only in the proper order this time.
Like Dorothy L. Sayers’
Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries; the late
Elizabeth Peters’
Amelia Peabody novels; and I’m
currently making my way through all of
Anne McCafferey’s
Dragonriders of Pern books,
although my plan this time is to read them in chronological order,
rather than in publishing order.
And they’re so much easier on a
Kindle, where I can adjust the font size
while I’m stumbling away on the
treadmill.
I do wish Amazon would “Kindle-ize” the
Mary Stewart romantic
mysteries. I have them all
in paperback, but I’m afraid if I take one down off the bookshelf, it
will fall apart on me.
Literally.
Speaking of falling apart, I recently visited one of my many, many
doctors and he blithely said, “Hop up on the table and let’s take a
look.”
Hop? Hop!
No, there will be no hopping.
Do you realize how many years it has been since I last hopped?
Me neither.
Would you settle for a slow shuffle?
And then yesterday, there was the Physical Therapist:
“Can I get you to flip over on your tummy?”
Flip? Flip!
There will be no flipping.
Will you settle for a ponderous roll?
Making sure I don’t fall off the 24-inch-wide “table”.
She told me to place my hands under my shoulders, then g-e-n-t-l-y lift
up, arching the back and hold for a few seconds.
Then s-l-o-w-l-y let myself back down onto the table.
Now repeat.
Suddenly, I realized: This
is a push-up! A push-up!
Do you realize how many years it has been since I last did an
honest-to-God, real push-up?
I can tell you. 1969, that’s
when!
I was a senior in
High School and had qualified for the newly-launched
Girls Gymnastics Team. The
coach said, “We need to work on your upper body strength.”
Translation: Lots and
lots of push-ups. Not my
favorite part of gymnastics training.
On the other hand, neither was stretching all those muscles for
flexibility.
Now I have a Physical Therapist who, quite frankly, treated me like a
big lump of bread
dough. She
would pull one part, while pushing another part in the opposite
direction. Then she started
kneading. Just like you do
with bread dough. Fold over
once and push down really
hard. Ouch.
But it’s supposed to be good for my slowly-disintegrating spine.
On the Plus Side: I’m 67
years old, and I’m still able to do push-ups.
Sort of.
Love, as always,
Pete
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