by TEJ | Jan 14, 2024 | Lifestyles humor
Just because I’m well into my sixties, it doesn’t mean I’m old. I am up to date with technology. I’d never use a rotary phone like this – mainly because the numbers are too small for me to read anymore.
Dear People Under Forty,
As a person who is now officially a “senior citizen” (I had my Medicare birthday four years ago), I have a small request. Whenever we’re together could you please refrain from inserting into our conversation the phrase “at your age?” When you say these words, what we people in our sixties hear is, “Dude, I can’t believe how old you are, not to mention frail, out of touch, mentally incompetent, and likely to tip over at any moment. Do you need to go pee?”
It’s true, I can no longer legally call myself middle-aged. But no, my kids aren’t currently scoping out nursing homes in my area – not yet anyway. I still play racquetball, tennis, and pickleball (although, admittedly I’ve never played any of them very well). I’m still totally capable of driving, building a deck, and setting up a wireless network in our house – okay, my wife just pointed out that perhaps I should just stick with the part about still being able to drive, in order to sound credible.
You don’t have to explain what every trendy new slang term means. I know what “Karen” and “Bye Felicia” mean. And when you roll your eyes, smirk, and say to me, “Okay Boomer,” I get the dismissive dig. I may not be totally woke, but I’m not in a coma, okay? I still use the Internet daily and have even written about the threat of AI. I still text, although on principle, I insist on using proper punctuation. (I confess I have no idea what the octopus emoji means.)
You don’t need to slow down your speech – or TALK LOUDER. My hearing is fine (even if my audiologist says I‘ll probably need hearing aids in three years).
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard younger people make reference to “at your age” in their conversations with me – mainly because my memory isn’t what it used to be. I played pickleball the other day. I lunged for a shot and lost my balance briefly. My partner, a young guy around 35, pulled me aside and counseled me, “Tim, at your age, why not let those shots go. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” I just smiled and said, “Thanks for your concern.” There was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’d just pulled my calf muscle.
At my last annual physical, I told my doctor of my plans to ski again this winter. He looked at my knees, both of which underwent total knee replacement surgery three years ago, and he said, “Tim, at your age, I’m not sure it’s wise to keep skiing, given the stress it puts on your knees.” Of course, most of my friends have been suggesting for years that I give up the sport, but only because they all agree I’ve never been a very good skier and I keep holding them back.
The other week, I was pushing a wheelbarrow heavily loaded with dirt up a steep incline in my backyard. A well-intentioned neighbor in his early forties noticed me straining under the weight. He said, “Hey, Jonesy, are you sure you should be pushing something that heavy at your age? Here, let me get that for you” And only because I didn’t want to offend him after his kind neighborly gesture, I reluctantly agreed to let him take over and push that load up the incline for me – along with the next 20 wheelbarrow loads. Hey, I’m lazy, not stupid.
Not long ago, I bought a gas grill at the hardware store. The sales clerk, who could not have been more than 25, informed me it takes about an hour to assemble. Then he added, “For $25, we can assemble it for you. At your age, perhaps you have better things to do with your time.” Because I’m a mature, emotionally secure man, I chose to ignore his subtle insinuation that I was too old and feeble to assemble it myself. Nevertheless, I decided to pay the $25 to have them assemble the grill, because, frankly, at my age, I have better things to do with my time.
People have often told me in recent years, “Tim, you still look good for your age.” What they’re really saying is, “Tim, if you were middle-aged, I’d say you look terrible. But seeing as you’re an old guy, you’re not looking so bad. I mean, congrats on still having most of your hair and teeth.” Um, thanks for the compliment, I guess?
I’m sure that in most cases, these younger people are just trying to be gracious or helpful. They’re probably concerned that people my age may need a little assistance or perhaps we’ve lost a step mentally and may not catch on quite as quickly as we used to. But the fact is most people in their sixties are far healthier and more mentally and physically fit than younger people realize. Did you know that George Clooney is 62? Kevin Costner is 68. Pierce Brosnan is 70. They’re all studs. And they’re all way better dressers than I am. I’m not sure what my point was. Oh right. Being over sixty doesn’t mean you’re slowing down. We have a lot to live for – unless your name is Rudy Giuliani, in which case, yeah, it would suck to be old like you.
L to R: George Clooney (age 62), Kevin Costner (68), and Pierce Brosnan (70). All these men are well over sixty but they’re all still vibrant, handsome, and sexy. And my wife would trade me in for any one of them in a heartbeat.
Let me ask you a question, my millennial friends. How would you like it if I routinely made comments to you like, “Hey, at your age, you might want to think about setting aside some money for a down payment on a house rather than putting it all into the latest cryptocurrency fad.” Or maybe, “At your age, perhaps you should think twice about getting into that car and driving, given the six beers you’ve consumed in the past two hours.”
Just something to think about… that is, if you’d like to have a shot at surviving until you arrive at my age.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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by TEJ | Jan 16, 2022 | Fun and Leisure Humor
This is the 100% true story about the time I could not find my glasses. And no, they weren’t on my forehead like this image shows. Give me a break. How stupid do you think I am? (Don’t answer.)
(Sadly, the following story is completely true.) As I age, I routinely am reminded that my body – and my brain – are slowing declining. I will never again grace the cover of People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive issue, and I’m pretty, were I to have my IQ re-evaluated, it would no longer be anywhere near 250.
Not long ago, I was looking at a small, furry rodent nibbling at something in a park – a type of critter we’ve all seen before. Small with brown stripes and an adorable button nose, kind of like a squirrel but browner and smaller. For the life of me, I could not think of the name. A total brain freeze. Then the next day, sitting with my wife on the couch, it hit me and reflexively, I blurted out CHIPMUNK! Naturally, my wife was startled, and more than a little confused, as that has never been one of my pet names for her.
Last month, I walked into our garage to retrieve something. But by the time I got there and turned on the light, I had no recollection of why I went there in the first place. And then there was the time last week, when I logged into Netflix on my computer and it asked for my password. Something I have done a thousand times. But in that instant I had another deer-in-the-headlights moment, completely blanking out as to my password.
What makes this even crazier is that my password for every website is the same: SmellyButt#1776. And just moments ago, I have this vivid memory of having shared my universal password with anyone reading this article. So, enjoy my Netflix account, everybody, I guess.
What was I thinking? Clearly, I wasn’t. And that brings me to the point of this article. It’s about what happened the other day. Consider the following Exhibit A in the case that I must be losing my mind.
Ever since I turned 45, I have worn glasses. All the time – except when I’m sleeping, and even then, sometimes I go to bed and forget to take them off. I entered the local IGA grocery store, wearing my glasses and, of course, wearing a mask due to Covid. (At least I remembered to wear a mask this time.)
As often happens when I wear a mask, my glasses began to fog up. So I pushed my glasses onto my forehead so I could see, and I continued with my shopping. After about 20 minutes of shopping, I placed my hand to my forehead. That’s when I noticed, oh crap! My glasses were no longer on my forehead. So, I retraced my steps from the previous 20 minutes, reversing the path I had taken, as best as my faulty memory could recall.
I should add that my glasses’ frames are clear, so they would easily disappear into the floor, making them a particularly vulnerable target for any shopping cart or shoe. After 30 minutes of searching high and low (but mostly low, since I assumed they were on the floor and not on the top shelf of the candy aisle), I gave up. They were nowhere to be found.
I went up to one of the cashiers and asked if anyone had turned in a pair of glasses. “I do have a pair of glasses, sir. Could these be yours?” he asked. But, even without my glasses, I could immediately tell they were not mine, as mine had clear frames and the ones he showed me were pink, with what looked to be a Hello Kitty design. “Thanks anyway, but no, those aren’t mine. I guess I will keep looking.”
Then another friendly young cashier chimed in. “Could you describe them? Do they look anything like the pair you’re currently wearing?”
I felt my face. There they were. I had been wearing them the entire time. At some point, I must have absentmindedly pulled my glasses down to inspect a package and forgot to push them back onto my forehead. I turned red with embarrassment and immediately proceeded to issue a loud public announcement for all around me to hear, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to bring your attention to the biggest idiot in the entire store – That would be ME!” (I actually said it. What’s more, no one refuted it.)
What happened to me came eerily close to a children’s story I told to my then-toddler daughter Rachel, who loved wearing her furry white winter hat everywhere. (No, this is not my daughter. Rachel was way cuter.)
What makes this story even more ironic is that when my two daughters were young, I often made up bedtime stories for them. My favorite such story was one I told my daughter Rachel when she was just three years old called Rachel and Her Missing White Hat. The story I wove was about Rachel’s favorite white winter hat that she loved so much she wore it everywhere.
But one day she could not find it and, as I yarned in my meandering story, she looked everywhere: throughout the house, all over her school, at the farm, and yes, even the grocery store. She could not find her favorite hat anywhere, I would tell her – UNTIL she finally looked in the mirror, and, voila! It had been on her head the entire time.
So, there I was, in the grocery store, literally re-enacting the very children’s story I had told to my toddler at bedtime countless times.
They say that as you get older, you start to revert to your childhood. I didn’t realize they meant it quite so literally.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2021.
by TEJ | Mar 31, 2019 | Lifestyles humor
Look at this happy couple. They were smart. They planned far ahead for their golden years with a sound investment strategy. Her great grandfather was John D. Rockefeller.
A wise man once said, If a man’s wealth be measured in grains of rice, he could hold all the riches of the world in his hands. Okay, so that man was an idiot. He was also my Uncle Larry, and he died penniless – unless you count the 850 boxes of Minute Rice found in his basement after his funeral.
Thankfully, I did not follow Uncle Larry’s investment approach, though I am enjoying the Minute Rice he left us. In fact, I have accumulated a large amount of wealth over my lifetime – almost as much as I have lost. If you’re concerned you may not have saved enough to comfortably retire before the age of 75, you’re not alone. You’re still probably screwed, but at least you’ll have company.
Let me share a few pearls of wisdom. First, whatever you do, and you might want to get a pen to write this down: NEVER HAVE KIDS! They are insanely expensive. The ROI on progeny is like a buying a bond – it takes decades to see a profit – if you’re lucky. According to recent studies I just made up, the cost of raising a child through college is $4.9 million – even more if you indulge in orthodontia for their crooked teeth. Okay, maybe I’m overshooting my cost projections slightly. My point is, kids will drain your retirement savings.
Don’t get me wrong – I love my kids – almost 70% of the time. I’m just saying, think of all you could do with the mega-bucks you’d save by being a little more conscientious about birth control. You could buy a small island off the coast of Greece (other than Mykonos or Santorini – I checked – they are way out of your price range). However, if you glibly choose to ignore my advice and decide to start a family anyway, don’t say I didn’t warn you. (more…)
by TEJ | Feb 22, 2016 | Fun and Leisure Humor, Lifestyles humor
I’m 61 years old. You can’t fool me with platitudes like “60 is the new 45.” Let’s face it. The man in the mirror is looking very rough around the edges – and frankly, he’s looking pretty rough everywhere inside the edges, too.
In recent years, I’ve become increasingly aware that my body is starting to falter. Nowadays my knees creak melodiously. When I get out of a chair, I have to think about how much thrust will be needed to propel me to a vertical posture. I’m losing my hair where I want it and gaining it in places I don’t. And my eyebrows grow in every direction but straight. When did that start happening?
In a series of futile efforts to stave off getting old, I’ve employed a variety of desperate measures. I can’t recall how many times I’ve tried dieting – mainly because my memory isn’t that good anymore. Every diet I try seems to end at the bottom of a guilt-ridden bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream at 11 o’clock at night, with me swearing I’ll start my diet tomorrow. I’ve tried working out on the treadmill, swimming and cycling, but these all suffer from a major drawback: they all require effort. I’ve tried herbal supplements like ginkgo biloba to improve my memory, but I always forget whether I took the pills that day or not. I’ve even tried self-proclaimed miracle drugs like Dyzastra. You name it. I’ve tried it. None of them have worked. I still feel like I am aging by the minute.
I have searched for the Fountain of Youth for years with no success – until now. I’m excited to share that I’ve finally found the secret to feeling instantly 20 years younger. And it did not require any expensive cosmetic surgery, painful ab crunches, uncomfortable fat-burning, vibrating belt, or Australian-method Pilates classes. I didn’t have to drink Kale smoothies, which, no matter how many blueberries you add, still taste like, well, Kale smoothies. No hair transplants. No hip replacement. Nothing that my doctor has been nagging me to change about my daily fitness habits for the past fifteen years. No, my solution was far simpler and pain-free.
(more…)
