When I was a kid growing up way out in the country, I knew a lot of older men who seemed ancient to me at the time – wrinkled, bald, fat, and sometimes crippled. I was told these guys were war heroes, ex-major league ballplayers, and bi-plane pilots. In my adolescent mind this wasn’t possible. Old duffers were always old duffers; they couldn’t possibly have been young and strong and brave in some past life.
Now I’m older than they were when I knew them. And even though I fit the description from above (wrinkled, fat, bald, and gimpy) I still remember the time when I was young and strong and adventurous. But how do my grandkids (and maybe great-grandkids) see me? Could they even imagine what I was like 25 or 40 or 60 years ago? Probably not.
Will they even know what it means to work your way through college? Would they believe I actually ran all those marathons and ultra marathons? And how could I have survived without HD TV, computers, cell phones, iPods, and especially wifi?
I guess the solution is: don’t worry about it, be happy. Keep doing what I do now. And accept the fact that I will be remembered as a strange old man and not the Greek God I would have like to have been in my wild, impetuous youth. My youngest grandchild was just born - what will he think of his old grandma and grandpa? Don't ask...
axman
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