Old Men and Young Ladies

  Jan and I enjoyed a delightful time last night with a young lady who is preparing to return to the lower 48 for a job she's really wanting. For the record, this isn't the gal  pictured here- she's a different young lady named Renee who just recently got married. She used to be the school counselor and we developed a friendship that  I cherish. She too left, a pattern I've seen all too often here in Hoonah. We just get to know someone and off they go. Isn't that life though? Anyway, our friend last night, Shannon, mentioned that I reminded her of her grandfather. That's a good thing. If she had said that I reminded her of Harrison Ford or some other equally handsome fellow, I might have felt the need to shave or shower or get dressed up a little before she came for a visit. As it was, because I'm getting to be an old guy, I don't feel any pressure to hold in my gut or stand up straight or anything. She knows I'm an old guy and accepts me as such, thus the four trips I made to bathroom last night during her visit didn't freak her out and I wasn't as embarrassed as I might have been if I'd been ten or twelve years younger. The young gals kind of expect that you'll probably spill something on you or repeat a story that you've told them before. They don't spend too much time looking at the excessive nose or ear hair that is protruding out of your facial orifices.  After all, they're not looking for a romantic adventure, they just want to talk to someone who remembers the old songs or the way it used to be and who can fit the bill as a surrogate grandfather. Another nice thing about being an old codger is that you can get away with saying what's on your mind and not have to worry too much about defending your position. In fact, I think that most folks expect you to state your opinion on everything from birth control to the idiots who are running the country.With any luck you'll be able to remember enough from your past to entertain them for an hour or two with stories of adventures from yesteryear. Even if you can't remember the stories exactly, they weren't around to know if you're telling the truth or not, and if perhaps your memories are jumbled together with stories that you might have heard from a friend, that's OK. Blame it on dementia or something.  That's another benefit of getting old- there's no limit to the excuses you can come up to cover some discrepancy in your character. So, as you age, don't worry so much about how you look or what you can't do anymore. When a young gal comes to visit, enjoy the scenery. As long as you don't drool, fart or fall asleep in mid-sentence, you can consider the evening a success- and if any of the above happens, don't worry about it. By tomorrow you will have forgotten it happened anyway.