You Said It, Grandma!

As my friends and family will tell you, I am not the best at telling funny stories.  That doesn't stop me, however, and one of my favorites pertains to the actor James Mason.  He was walking along in Ireland when this woman took notince of him, never saying anything, just watching.  She started following him, and finally she tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Pardon me sir - - Would you happen to be Mr. James Mason in his later years?"


Now evidently Mason got quite a kick out of that, or else we never would have heard it.  But at the time, it would have been jarring for him.  Think about what she asked:  "Are you the old version of the man I've watched on the screen for years?" That was basically the question, but she said it in such a nice way.


Many of us, if not yet in our 'later years', are getting there.  When I point out I'm middle aged, people poo-poo that.  I point out that at forty-six, one merely has to double that, and I'd be ninety-two, which (with no offense to any ninety-two year olds who might read this) is no spring chicken.  So yeah, I'm middle aged.. 


Unfortunately, my middle has aged more than I have.  When I get up in the morning, the most ghastly sight greets me.  This pot-bellied, snorting, beady-eyed, shuffle-footed, horrific monster.  And every day I remind my family we really do need to take down the bathroom mirror.  The good news is that I have my own hair.  No, I don't have a receipt for it, as it's actually mine.  But it's winding up more in the sink and the tub.  It used to be so nice.


I bump into people I went to school, and I'll call Max Good.  He'll ask two important questions:  1)  Does he have his hair?  2)  Are they fat?  I keep pointing out to Max we're losing our hair and putting on weight so does it matter?  After the last time I reminded him of this, he didn't return my phone calls for three months.  I don't blame him.  But the real reason I call Max is when I bump into these people and they go, "Mickey!  How are you?"  I need to know who they are.  (Max doesn't know, either.)


Shortly before her passing, my grandmother - - for whom the word 'feisty' was invented - - said "Getting old sucks."  She may not have liked getting old, but she had a whale of a time getting there.  And that's what we learned from her:  Despite the creaks, aches, and pains, just enjoy what you have and as the groundhog said to the mole:  Gopher it.