There are so many jokes in the standard repertoire about aging that it would be impossible to gather them all. I'm so old I have stopped buying green bananas. Anon. I'm so old my insurance company sends me half a calendar. R Dangerfield. I'm so old that the sight of flowers frighten me. G Burns. I'm so old that when I order a 3 minute egg they want the money up front. G Burns. I'm so old the candles cost more than the cake. B Hope. This one by Steven Wright stops me cold: How young can you die of old age?
Of course, none of the above is original with me. Not even growing old. It just feels unique. It's one of those things, that if you do it (grow old, I'm talking) you feel alone. I don't care if the room is full of cheering friends, which, of course, is nice, but even such an outpouring cannot remove the footprint of time.
These things don't occupy your mind too much until you pass 50, or for sure 60. That's when it gets serious. Friends and family begin dying off much too quickly for comfort. Children you once knew or haven't seen in a while are now voting adults if not parents as well. Then one day you realize you are *thinking* about it all the time - well, a lot of the time.
Just a while ago I was commiserating with CA about the recent demise of my lovely main computing machine: my MacBook Air. It was only 4 years old. I won't bore you with the details, but it's history. Beyond reasonable repair. Water, corrosion. I don't have a clue as to how that happened. It's a total mystery. The bottom line is it is headed for the recycle bin.
For the past fifteen years I have used a laptop as my primary writing instrument. Every day I journal, do emails and compose two blogs on a laptop. I am using an eight year old iMac now that is on borrowed time sort of like I am. And it ties me to the desk. I like to move around. Yada yada yada. There's no end to all this.
Now, here is how an Octogenarian processes such a situation. OK. Should I go ahead and replace the laptop with the present version or wait for the inevitable upgrade at some unknown time in the future? I'd like the new model, but will it arrive in time? That wasn't a joke. I'm dead serious. Whoops!
There comes a time in life when the idea of delayed gratification is a kind of dark joke. I mean, really!
But you see my point. Here is how my one-liner goes: "I'm so old I can't wait for the next computer upgrade". (Drum Roll) Oh well. . . I never could tell a joke.
How about this from the Song of Solomon: "Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither". I kind of like that. The Rosebud Theory of big ticket purchases in old age. It has a certain charm, don't you think?
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