|
Forward through the ages...
By Dan & Nancy Sapir
Posted Tuesday, March 4, 2008
 E-mail this page
 Printer-friendly page
HIM: When I turned 66 two days after Christmas it was no big deal. Men can deal with things like getting older. I feel pretty good, I can lose those extra pounds whenever I want and with a few prescription drugs life is not so bad. The fact that I have a paunch doesn’t bother me, baldness doesn’t keep me awake at night, the wrinkles could be worse, the varicose veins don’t show and my blood work is usually pretty good. The gist of it all is that being old doesn’t bother me. Actually, there are benefits; if you forget a name, or are late for an appointment, you can blame it on old age. The Dunkin’ Donut senior discount is available seven days a week and people very often give up their seats in deference to your age.
It is a known fact that men hold up better than women; they’re thinner, have better muscle tone, are more active and keep their good looks longer. We men actually get better with age and maintain our good looks a lot longer then women.
I know she’s not going to like it when I tell you that she has now turned 60. She’s managing to put up a good front but I can tell she is not happy about it. These are the times that I have to be especially nice to her, exhibit a lot of understanding and be even more patient than usual. I know how these women feel when they hit 60 because they desperately try to ward off the effects of living 60 years.
Through makeup, hair color and clothing designed to conceal those tell-tale bulges, women try, unsuccessfully, to rid themselves of the demons of old age. It’s really kind of funny in a way, because when all those methods start becoming ineffective, then everything goes at the same time.
I’ve tried to be extra nice to Nancy because I know what she must be going through. It must be hard, not just for her, but for all women going through the same nightmare of the aging process. I call her a couple of times a day just to say hello, I remember to always say “Love you” every time I hang up the phone and I buy her stuff like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, real rich ice cream, Sponge Bob cheese crackers, wood for the fireplace and Joel Osteen tapes. I feel good when she feels good.
I knew when we got married 42 years ago that things change, that she wouldn’t be young forever…I accepted that then and I accept that today. The thing is, I really don’t see that she’s reached that big 6-0. When you live with someone every day for all those years, the treachery of time is so slow and gradual that I just don’t see it that badly. I’m sure to tell her, every day, that I love her; women require that assurance and I’m Johnny-on-the-spot when it comes to knowing what makes her happy.
Not only that, but in about 10 more years, when I’m pushing 70, I might just slow down a tad and I may need her to tell me what a great looking old codger I still am, without it sounding so much like a lie.
HER: He’s been waiting for a meltdown since before my birthday, and he’s still waiting for one. He’s vexed because I accept my age. He kept taunting me with, “Wow, you’re sixty,” over and over, but he couldn’t goad me into depression over it. The truth is I’m a lot better at being older than I ever was at being young.
Being older is a kind of liberation from vanity and from the rigors of comparing oneself to others and trying to measure up. Vanity, however, dies hard. I try to stay neat and clean just so the EMT’s, God forbid, never say, “Man, that is the messiest old woman I have ever seen.”
Here’s what I like about being older. When a problem arose in the past, the kids would get the word out and say, “Don’t tell Ma; she’ll have a heart attack.” Now they mean it.
When I make a suggestion to them about something I think they should do, they don’t fight me on it, they just do it. They think my suggestions are the last wishes of a dying woman. Nobody wants me to lift anything. Yahoo!!
They pull me aside and press money into my hand for yarn. Oh Dear Lord, why couldn’t I have turned sixty ten years ago!
Here’s what I don’t like. If I lost my tweezers, I’d kill myself, and I need a stronger exfoliant-like gravel maybe. There is some hair you cannot dye. There are days I wake up not knowing if I’m alive or dead, but then I hear a voice saying, “Aren’t you going to make coffee?” and I know I am not hearing the voice of God. Toe nail painting should be a senior Olympics event. I’d watch that.
What older women need to do is keep a really old guy around to make you feel young. It works for me
Latest articles in Him & Her
Playing Hide & Seek with Myself[Apr. 16, 2008] I think I’m beginning to acknowledge the fact that I’m getting older. Now mind you, I still think young, but there are reminders out there that no matter how I think, old age is creeping in. There are times I head out of the office and drive up the hill heading North. Halfway up I start wondering where is it I’m heading? I figure that if I just keep driving I’ll spot something that will trigger my memory; most of the time it works and it’s either Sovereign Bank or Stop & Shop that is my destination.
Now, I can’t tell you how many times I can’t find my car in the S & S parking lot. I just become just another person going up and down the rows with my shopping cart in tow. I become convinced that the car has been stolen, when, there it is, parked nowhere near where I swear I put it.
Forward through the ages...[Mar. 4, 2008] When I turned 66 two days after Christmas it was no big deal. Men can deal with things like getting older. I feel pretty good, I can lose those extra pounds whenever I want and with a few prescription drugs life is not so bad. The fact that I have a paunch doesn’t bother me, baldness doesn’t keep me awake at night, the wrinkles could be worse, the varicose veins don’t show and my blood work is usually pretty good. The gist of it all is that being old doesn’t bother me. Actually, there are benefits; if you forget a name, or are late for an appointment, you can blame it on old age. The Dunkin’ Donut senior discount is available seven days a week and people very often give up their seats in deference to your age.
Wii can only dream of the Glory Days that never were...[Jan. 29, 2008] HIM: I have finally found something in the world of computer games that I can get a handle on. I’ve never gotten into this Play Station stuff because I’m afraid it would become addictive, and I’d get even less done then I already do. But alas, there is now something that both she and I can have fun with. I’m speaking of the latest phenomenon called Wii. It’s an interactive game that you can actually control. You can play baseball, shoot at birds, bowl, and a whole lot more. The thing is, you actually control your actions by holding a handle devise that gets attached to your wrist so you don’t throw the thing at the TV screen.
Him and Her: Wealth[Dec. 20, 2007] HIM: Now that the kids are grown it is a great sense of pleasure when we get invited over to one of their houses for holiday dinners. Between Susannah in Plymouth and Steven here in Kingston, we haven’t had to prepare these five course meals for years. Nancy, forgetting how many years she slaved over a hot stove and oven, always feels that she should be making "a little something" to take along. The thing that I just don’t get, is the number of little ditties she whips up to prove "we’re not pikers." Her shopping list looks as long as when she fed everyone and then some. She prepares an elaborate dessert, a side dish…or two and insists on a bottle, or two, of wine. Me, I look at the whole thing differently. I love the idea of showing up at their house, plunging into appetizers and then plowing into the meal 30 minutes later. After a 10 minute recovery period, I’m usually the one who pokes around the dessert and is first to attack the pies, cake and puddings. When that’s taken care of, I retire to whatever room the TV is located, to watch football. At halftime I head back to the food and dessert for round two, concluding with a Tupperware container lavished with leftovers. That’s my idea of living. I can never understand why she always tells the kids, "I’m sorry for your father’s eating disorder, but you know how it is with him and food." I never could understand what that’s all about, I mean, we do our share with the stuff she whips up; it’s like a down payment for all the other food that I consume. I never mind buying all the stuff we end up bringing as our contribution because she makes so much that the kids send us back with most of it anyway.
When Real Power Meets the Perception of Power[Nov. 27, 2007] Boy did I make a mistake the other day. I was heading out to work when she informed me that my Doberman had gotten into the trash and it was now littering the floor. Being in a hurry, I did what any red blooded male would do, I told her to "deal with it" and headed out the door. Well, I should have realized that that was the kiss of death. "Deal with it?" she whispered. "OK, I'll deal with it, but you will pay for that remark when you least expect it" she muttered under her breath.
Coffee - It’s the only legal drug from Colombia...[Oct. 30, 2007] HIM: Coffee. I just don’t see the big deal about coffee. I see people lined up at different places around time waiting for that first hit of the morning. She is no different. Without that first cup in the morning she is a lost cause. She wakes up, squints her eyes and shuffles into her slippers. Her hair is askew, her steps halting, and the only word I can make out from her murmuring is, "coffee." In zombie-like motions she stumbles into the kitchen, puts a filter into the bin and pours in the water, I know she is reasonably conscious because she remembers to give the dogs water, flips open a can of cat food, pushes it into my hand and points outside where the cat now lives because of the two dogs. She has yet to speak but manages to sit on the living room couch where she just sits, hunkered down, until she hears no more activity from Mr. Coffee. With that, she rushes back to the kitchen, smells the effervescence of coffee, pours a cup and retreats back to the couch. She wraps her hands around the cup, retreats within herself, and gradually moves the cup closer to her mouth (which she manages to find on the third attempt). Blessed is the first sip of the brown liquid for it brings a great smile to her face. By the third sip her vocal cords are functioning again. "Go pour yourself a cup so I can go over the list of things you have to do for me today" she suggests, "and remember to clasp your hands around the cup so you can be cozy." Yes, the morning is truly underway.
Mulching Madness[Sep. 28, 2007] HIM: Over the past several seasons she’s killed fewer plants then in the past. The idea of a big garden at the rear of our home is beginning to diminish as she turned her attention to the indoor planting of seeds. I’m not sure what we had growing throughout the summer but little green shoots were peeping up from those weird looking pots placed throughout every room. She could have owned stock in potting soil and Miracle Grow with the vast amounts she carted into the house. She even talked to them welcoming each new bud into a world that can only spell doom.
Calling a Truce in the War on Peace and Quiet[Aug. 27, 2007] HIM: She’s up to something and I think it’s diabolical. I haven’t figured it out yet but I will. It’s not natural and it flies in the face of female thinking.
First off I should mention that we have two sons. For the past few years my oldest son David and I have made it a tradition to watch all Patriots games at his place in North Plymouth.
E-mail this page
Printer-friendly page
|
TKO MESSAGE BOARDS:
