Old Age Sucks

I'm not being ungrateful. We all age and life becomes a slow-motion movie. It's the memory that plays tricks when you can recall flying through the air in an aerial flip with a svelte body. Yes, I did. Once upon a time.

You notice little things ..... people open their mouths wider and enunciate each word. The first time that happened, it was with the girl at the fish market and I thought SHE was deficient.

Suddenly my kids become boy scouts at street crossings and grab my arm but then I remember how I used to make them take MY hand at crossings.

After a fresh snowfall, each kid calls .......
"Mom, don't drive today."
"But I have an appointment with....."
"I don't care. Cancel it."
That old memory kicks in again and I recall driving across Minneapolis and St. Paul to a remote ballroom for dancing, during some of the worst Minnesota blizzards. Dang.

Yesterday I visited a 90 year old lady who is absolutely one of most scintillating and interesting ladies I've ever met. She has one of the largest libraries, filled with books of varied subjects. Ina is a walking encyclopedia and although I had intended a brief visit, it lasted hours. We love discussing books and there is always an exciting exchange of ideas.

There was a heavy box of stuff she wanted to give me, so she dragged the box out of the garage while I backed the car into her driveway.

Maybe old age ain't so sucky after all.

I Remember Whitney Houston

I just heard that Whitney Houston has died. I remember the time I met her.

My husband owned a baseball team . We went to all the home games but didn't sit together. He loved the fans but wanted to concentrate on the game so he watched from an enclosed box. I chose to sit down with the fans in a box that was reserved for visiting celebs, etc.

Whitney Houston had just sung the National Anthem and was ushered to the seat beside me. The game had started but we chit-chatted a little and settled into watching the ball game.

I remember 2 things about her. One was her obvious beauty. Sitting that close to her, I could drink it all in and absorb her perfume.

Number two was the ring she wore on her right hand. It was the most unusual ring, a huge diamond that was shaped in an oblong to the left and also covered much of her middle finger. As her hands rested in her lap, I couldn't get interested in the game, as my attention kept drifting back to her ring.

She got up during the 7th inning stretch, said good bye, gave a radiant smile and left. I can't recall the exact year but I'm sure it was before she reached the pinnacle of her career. I hadn't thought about that ball game in years but this evening when I heard the news of her passing, it all came back. I could feel the warm Minnesota evening air, hear the crack of the bat and "whaamp" when the ball smacked the catcher's glove. I could hear the vendors, smell the hot dogs and pop corn and Whitney's perfume.

My sympathy to Whitney's daughter and her family.

Hummmm It makes one think

Would you call this the beginning or the end of civilization?