As I Age...

 Here's a picture of me from a few weeks ago, coming to the top of the ladder at the cold storage. I had just unloaded my catch of cohos and had to climb up the ladder to get my fish ticket and check. Like so much else lately, the trip up the ladder was a workout. I try not to do it much any more. I get winded, in part because I'm packing a lot more pounds than I should be. No discipline I guess. It's also part of the aging process though I think. As we get older we have less energy and slow down. We need more time to rest and we're less active. Lately I've taken to having an afternoon nap... or several. Sometimes they're planned, and sometimes they just sneak up on me while I'm in my chair watching the TV for a few minutes. I was up at the post office today and my friend John Murray, who is always outspoken was talking to a lady. When he saw me, he said-"Botts! Pull up  your pants!" He was right, they were starting to sag a little. I'm not sure how, it's certainly not because I'm losing weight. I think that my belly is so big that it keeps pushing my jeans down. I know that I've taken to tightening my belt all the way to the last hole just to keep from looking like one of those inner city kids with their pants down close to their knees. I'm sure that it's a common affliction, as I've seen a number of men my age running around with suspenders now. One friend just wears sweat pants. I hope I never get so old that I find sweat pants or pajamas suitable wear out in public. This year while I was fishing I noticed that several of my fingers on my left hand are getting numb. I was mentioning this to my neighbor and fellow fisherman. He's got the same problem as well as his foot getting numb. Almost all my older friends suffer with arthritis in one form or another. I've got it in both knees and in my right hand as well as my back. It makes getting a full night's rest a thing of the past, that and having to get up several times to pee. Prostate issues, go figure. Unfortunately not all that uncommon in us older guys. When I was a kid I used to stare at the hands of my older relatives. They were all wrinkled and had age or liver spots on them. I always thought they looked so ugly, never giving any thought to the idea that one day I might have them. I do, and they are still ugly. They make me look like an old man- that and the grey or white hair and the paunch and stooped shoulders and limp when I walk. The bushy eyebrows and hair that sprouts out of my ears like broccoli trees. I went to my favorite barber shop over in Juneau this past week. Pete, one of the barbers has retired, and Joe is talking about taking more time off. Joe lopped off quite a pile of grey hair; enough to make my own "My Pillow". I mentioned how much cooler I already felt and he commented that I was losing some of my "r" value- like insulation in an attic. He's right, and it's not just because of the haircut. Lately I've been noticing a fair amount of loose hair in my baseball cap when I take it off, and after a shower and shampoo, I've got a lot more skin showing through the top of my head than any time since I was born. It's getting kind of scary to look in the mirror any more. Things that I wish were bigger are shrinking, and things I wish would shrink are getting bigger. Everything is backwards. It's like living in Bizzarro world.  Without a full time job to worry about any more I have more time to stay in touch with my friends. I miss them dearly. I guess I always have, but I was too busy to think about it back then. Now I call Buffalo Bob about every two weeks. We discuss books and weather and politics and God. Bob lives alone at the end of a road in rural Vermont. I don't know how much he gets out and around; I think fairly often, but it's not like he's in town every day. Next time I call I need to ask him to give me the phone number of a friend that I can call in case one day I call and he doesn't answer after a few times of trying. I know that some day he'll die, we all will, but I don't want him to be up in his cabin all alone for days on end. The thought makes me want to cry. I don't tell the people that I love that I love them very often. I don't know why, but I know that I need to. For their sake when I'm gone, and for mine while I'm here. I don't know how it's possible, but I think that on the one hand I'm crankier than I used to be, and on the other hand, I'm more patient. I guess it depends on the situation I find myself in. On the ferry surrounded by  self centered, obnoxious buffoons, I really get irritated, much like how I feel when I'm surrounded by tourists in town, and yet, I can sit in the boat for hours without getting a bite and not get too agitated any more. I'm at an age where I don't worry about money too much. I'm not rich by any means, but we paid for the house a few years ago, the boat, truck and fishing permits are paid for, and aside from the regular monthly bills, we don't have any debt. I'm at a time in my life where my priorities are changing, and it's a good thing. I spoke to my good friend Bob Pinard today, and he mentioned how the idea of going out and trudging around the woods hunting doesn't have any appeal for him any more, and even though his passion has been helping people work on their houses, he just doesn't have the strength or desire to do it now. We change when we get older. We have to. Our bodies won't co-operate with our brains any more. I hope that as you are getting older each day you will give thought to your priorities. Get out of debt, spend time with your family and friends, eat well, get plenty of rest and laugh a lot. Be generous, there are so many people who are in need, often through no fault of their own. Pray and worship, we need divine guidance. Try to enjoy every day. It's a gift.