A Loco Viewpoint

Not Dames, Skirts, or Flappers

 

My mother, seemingly unsatisfied with the title “Octogenarian”, has given notice that she is leaving this august and esteemed position she’s held for a decade. As of the second of April, she will officially hit the 90th year of her youth.  
Wow... 90. It’s an amazing achievement considering she was born prior to such things as antibiotics, bike helmets and unleaded crib paint. Those idiots on “Survivor” have nothing on her. I mean, Mom’s been around longer than bubble gum, scotch tape, and Kool-Aid and can recall when people thought the Hindenburg was a great idea.
Born in 1922, (I did the math) this was a full seven years before a woman was considered to be a “person” in Canada. Prior to that, they were considered to be dames, broads, skirts, bearcats, flappers and even “Shebas”, except my mom. She was known as simply “Ida”, although to eight of us, we call her Mom.  Dad mostly called her “your mother” but for the longest time I thought her nickname was “Oy”. 
“Oy!” he’d call out to his loving wife, now of 60 plus years. “Can you please bring me in a tea?”
Mom’s approaching birthday bash has got me thinking about longevity and its ramifications. Considering the amazing advances my mom has seen in just the last forty years, coupled with the rapid acceleration of the acquisition of knowledge currently, what wonders will I witness during the next forty? This is assuming, of course, I’ll live another forty years, although, statistically, it’s not likely. In fact, when the guys down at the local found out I had made a little joke to Cupcake about people who watch reality shows, the pool didn’t go past next Wednesday.
On pondering longevity, I realized quickly, like everything else, it’s a double-edged sword. In the vast majority of cases, it beats the alternative, but, as famed actor and eye owner, Bette Davis once said, “Old age isn’t for sissies.” It takes a great deal of intestinal fortitude (not to mention time) to reach old age. Of course, if you wait around long enough, live healthy, eat moderately, drink moderately and only be moderately merry, you just might make it. Of course, besides maintaining a moderate lifestyle, to really rack up the numbers, you have to acquire smart habits like avoiding sharks, plagues, terrorist attacks, bonking your head just right, eating pretzels without anything to wash them down with and flipping off outlaw biker gangs. By eschewing those practices and a whole list of others too long to catalogue, you too can enjoy the benefits of nonagenarianism. Let’s look at what they are:
When you’re ninety, no one hounds you to go to the gym. They might hound you to go to bingo, but the gym; you’re entirely safe. For one thing, they had to ban walkers on treadmills as they would cause the machines to jam up, tossing fitness-minded seniors into the elliptical machines.
At that age, you can dress any way you want. Even the sacred fashion rule that “underpants go on the inside of trousers” becomes more of a guideline.
Also, if you’re a male nonagenarian, you have the option of hiking your trousers up as far as they will go, ideally, up past your belly so your belt doesn’t put pressure on your intestines making you pass gas.
Of course, if you’re ninety, you can pass gas with impunity anyway, as by now you don’t give a rat’s patooty what people think.
When you are that advanced in years, everybody believes you, when you say “I forgot.” Some get a little excited if you use too much, however and pack you off to a doctor.
Upon reaching your ninetieth year, making the century mark to get the birthday wishes from the Prime Minister becomes a passion. You’d think he was sending money.
If you’re 90, your jokes are always laughed at, especially if they’re age-related. “I plan to live to be 250 and so far, so good!” When you reach the age of 90, there’s a lot less peer pressure.
Another great thing about aging is that the older you get, the less life insurance companies are interested in spamming you. 
Once in your nineties, it’s great that you now have time to do the things that are important and special to you without rushing... like having a bowel movement.  Mind you, at that age, a lot of people seem to take a big interest in your bowel movements. They haven’t received this much attention since you were in diapers.
Having combed the annals of Internetland in search of appropriate quotes regarding aging, I finally found one that describes the mental state of the extreme elderly perfectly. It comes to us from Jim Fiebig, whose sole claim appears to be issuing pithy quotes. He wrote, “Age does not diminish the extreme disappointment of having a scoop of ice cream fall from the cone.”
I believe, aging doesn’t change your attitude towards life as much as your attitude towards aging does.
Happy Ninetieth, Mom. You’re doing it right. I love you!
 
STOP THE PRESSES!
A few weeks ago, I penned a piece featuring advice and observations that regular guys have sent into the Loco World Group Super Computer and Solitaire Platform. We just received another astute submission from Richard in London, Ontario. (Seriously!) He writes, “When a women says ‘What?’ It’s not because she didn't hear you. She is giving you a chance to change what you said.” Great work, Richard! Keep those great comments coming in to chris@pipestoneflyer.com!
 



 
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