The Geezer Dailies

[Warph]

I was in the express lane at the supermarket today and a woman slipped ahead of me pushing a cart piled high with groceries.  Pissed me off.  Imagine my delight when the cashier told the woman to come forward, looked into her cart and asked sweetly, 'So which six items would you like to buy?'.  Made my day.

So later we went to the Mall.  I got separated from my wife so I approached a very beautiful young gal and said, "I've lost my wife here in the mall... can you talk to me for a couple of minutes?"  The woman looked puzzled and said, "Why do you want to talk to me?" "Because every time I talk to a beautiful young woman like you, my wife appears out of nowhere!"  Yep, she appeared.

Here's some good common sense advice... Don't spend three dollars to dry clean a shirt.  Donate it to GoodWill instead.  They'll clean it and put it on a hanger.  Next morning buy it back for a buck.

[Warph]

[Warph]

Memory is a remarkable gift and memories are very precious.  We all carry them on life's journey. Everything we have ever experienced is etched somewhere in our minds.

For most people the idea of becoming aged is something to be held in dread.  Many have little or no communication with the elderly, apart from helping an `old lady' on or oft the bus.  But we older people are all around, and many of us have a wealth of knowledge and experiences to share, to those who care to listen.

                      Memories

Who says my mind has gone away
I see my youth there every day
I replay my life where none can go
I meet the friends who've had to go

So don't tell me I'm getting old
And now must do just what I'm told
I laugh and play inside my head
And wander paths that once I tread

So when it seems I am not there
It's just a thought I cannot share
Please be patient with me when I'm slow
I might be somewhere else you know

I hope you too can store away
The memories of what we share
Then in the late days of your time
You can recall as I do mine

[Warph]

                           

A day in the life of a geezer

Yesterday started out good enough.

Like most folks my age, I got up early. Drank coffee. Took my pills. Read the paper. Feigned a couple of squats and stretches. Remembered my father's caution "What don't hurt, don't work.

Nothing unusual so far.

As you pass age 70, and into your eighth decade, a long dormant section of the brain suddenly awakes, its synapses constantly taking inventory of aches and pains, immediately noting every new creak, twinge, ache, and strain that now so frequently assaults our bodies.

So any morning when we septuagenarians actually get up and get going without complaint is a Good Morning! indeed.The sun was out, the breeze was fresh, and all was well with my world. That is, until doctors' appointments for my age-related nemeses — an enlarged prostate and suddenly failing eyesight — took me onto the shoals of geezerdom.

A tiny amount of blood in my urine forced me to a urologist where, for the first time in my life, I was introduced to what I thought was a torture devised for women only: stirrups.

Before I knew it, I had a flexible fiber-optic tube tipped with a camera, lighting and water systems, pushing up my urethra.

"That hurts!" I grunted.

"It's nothing," the doctor said, "Just wait till it hits your prostate."

Such passionate stirrup-side manner! (Much like his earlier statement: "Hmm, that is big!" fingering my prostate while invading yet another body opening.)

Next thing I knew, he said, "You can let me go now."

I looked down and saw that my legs, no longer in the stirrups, were tightly wrapped around the good doctor's waist in a wrestler's death squeeze.

And it was over. (Except for the pain of urinating razor blades following the procedure.)

Next stop: my eye doctor. For some reason, my right eye was out of focus, forcing me to use an eye patch to read and use my computer.

Turns out that the second most-performed operation among ophthalmologists is breaking up a film that often forms after cataract operations.

As I learned about an hour later, sitting in a head brace while a machine went Pow! Pow! Pow!, it's done using a laser as a shotgun, your eye as clay pigeons.

No pain. Just fragments of film, floaters that may or may not disappear with time.