Not Quite Finished

Feb 2023

My wife and I went to a small local diner for breakfast today. Once each week we have been trying both new, and old, haunts to enjoy a morning meal together. We had never even noticed this one, as it is located in a strip mall type of place and we had never heard anyone speak about it before. Walking in this morning was kind of like stepping back about 50 years in time – except for the prices.

It was mostly filled – not an empty table in the place – with upper-aged diners. Husbands, bald or grey-haired, and wives, dressed like they just came from the farm, also mostly grey-haired. There was a smattering of younger couples with a few kids, but the middle-aged crowd was nowhere to be seen. As we sat there I commented to my wife that a certain guy at another table resembled me a lot. Silver-haired, shorts, running shoes, and tee shirt. My wife and I have had a particular discussion a lot lately, about how old people look. We even refer to them as “old people”. Every now and then she will remind me that we are them – in looks. 

I am now of the age where each month Uncle Sam gives me back a pittance of what I have donated to the government every year for the major portion of my life. And I’m very grateful for those steady checks that go into my account. At least I’ll have money to put fuel into my vehicle, pay even more taxes, buy some clothes when mine have holes in them, and to eat breakfast at a diner each week. But I certainly don’t feel old. I don’t even think I look old yet. And in my mind I’m definitely not old yet. Even though I sometimes wake up from having far too little sleep, have to move around for ten minutes to get some of my joints “oiled”, or find out I slept wrong and my shoulder won’t function or my ankle needs WD 40 instead of just plain old oil. I account those things to having played competitive sports almost all of my life. Heck, until very recently I was playing tennis and basketball with guys 30 years younger than me. 

I don’t know. Maybe I’m living in denial. Those age spots that have started appearing on my skin are just because I lived in very hot climates most of my life. My silver hair is not really much different that the blonde hair I sported for most of my life, and is supposedly a sign of wisdom. The achy shoulders and creaky knees are simply sports injuries taking a long time to heal. And the five extra pounds that are clinging to north of my belt line are only temporary diet changes that I need to address. Is living in denial really all that bad?

Trouble is, that is not a healthy mindset to center oneself in. Life is made up of seasons, just like nature. Somehow I went from summer to fall without realizing it, until very recently. And winter is probably only a decade of so down the road. Watching the “old people” hobbling in and out, sitting and eating (usually way too much), and straining their ears to hear their better halves, is like staring into the future. I’m not sure I like what I see, so, as long as I’m able I’m going to try and keep my mind sharp, my body exercised daily, and my heart grateful for the abundant blessings that have been poured over me in my past seasons of life. At the same time I’m not going to fret about what lies ahead, rather, I’m going to go full steam ahead in learning new things, working as hard as I can, and not eating a short stack of pancakes each week. Grape Nuts and yogurt are the wiser decision.