My brother turned 54 yesterday. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around that fact. I’m pretty sure he was born a couple years after me, so how can it be that he’s now so… so… so darn old?
It’s a strange but true condition of the human experience that although our bodies may age, our minds remain forever young. Every morning as I awaken, I am absolutely certain that I’m not much more than 18—that is, until I open my eyes.
Younger people don’t realize the depth of this truth. They think we’re all old fuddy-duddies, knocking at the door of senility and gumming our daily gruel. They see us lame with arthritis and think we’ve never tripped the light fantastic. What they don’t know is that we all still think we can dance with Patrick Swayze and look good doing it.
They can’t imagine how our bodies have betrayed us, and that theirs will too, and much sooner than I’d ever consider voting republican.
I’d sure like to believe in reincarnation, so when I finish this trip on the merry-go-round I’ll have a chance for “do-overs.” You can bet your boots I’d do a whole lot of things differently in my life, given half the chance.
So “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may…” My brother’s 54, and I’m not. Neener-neener-neener!
