Several years ago, when Dave Kestel and I were working a Farm Bureau program, an attendee commented about our energy and our apparent youthful playfulness. That was when I coined the phrase, “The first 50 years of childhood are the best.” Now at the age of 61, have I grown up and blown right past the teen and young adult stage?
It was just another day in a string of oppressive humidity and 90 plus degree days when I stated to my hay helper that I really did not want to go to work today. Have I finally grown up; am I becoming like many “adults” and not enjoying my job?
Are there any other signs that I have matured and become a senior citizen that cannot wait for retirement? Well, 8-hour days of manual labor make me very tired, 12-hour days almost kill me, and I do not think I will ever accomplish another 16-hour day in my life.
In the first week of August, I scanned the weather forecast and decided a good way to beat the heat was a trip to the waterpark. My wife loved the idea. This was something I had never done in my life until I was close to Medicare age.
It was bittersweet to have some fun and escape the heat for 6 hours but I could not help but notice all the water being spilled, splashed, and dripping from small leaks in piping and slide sections knowing that my crops in Manhattan have been parched for 3 months. You never saw greener or thicker grass than around all the slides where water was plentiful.
The waterpark had a lot of rules about what could be brought in the park, and I would agree many exist for good reasons. I started to wonder if the easiest to comply with all the rules was to enter naked... don’t panic, I didn’t. They did have a rule that swimwear had to be modest; obviously my definition of modest was different than some people. Proof again that I have aged substantially.
Further proof of my age was my disdain of the lines, some of the prices and the fact that all transactions had to be cashless with a credit card. I believe I have officially become old and crotchety. I will now leave the waterpark to the younger crowd; I am officially old.
That doesn’t mean I am going to drive miles down the road with my turn signal on. I do not yell, “what”, whenever someone talks or go to the pharmacy every day and to see if I have any medications or grumble about copays’. I do not come to a complete stop before turning right at intersections when I have the right-of-way. Yes, that is a habit of older drivers.
However, if you ever catch me saying my least favorite line, “This is the way I have always done it, the old way is best”, it might be time to call the auctioneer.
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