Any Resemblance?

I recently discovered buried in a file cabinet many columns I had written between 1985-95 as a chaplain in a retirement center. I have been writing Senior Moments now for many years, I decided to share one of those earliest columns entitled GERITOL as a 2015 Senior Moment.

When I was a wee lad, I wished I had freckles. Why I really don't know. Now, many years later, I've got some. To be precise, there are sixteen on the back of my right hand, about the same on my left. Freckles? Those aren't freckles; they are age spots (so I was told). Age spots? Nonsense.

Not long ago, someone told me not to frown because it puts wrinkles in my brow. Hogwash. Those furrows are the result of years of concentrated thinking. You know, “thought rivulets.”

For years, when I was a bit more than a wee lad, my father used to say, “Daniel (never Dan or Danny), straighten up!” Since I was but a lad, he wasn't talking about my morals, he was discussing my posture. There's nothing wrong with my posture. Its just that I had always been in a hurry and my neck tried to get my head there first. That's why I lean forward when I walk.

Besides, there is a secondary reason which is my father's fault. I was coerced into sitting on a piano bench with no back rest, for years and years. Furthermore, before we could afford a piano I practiced on a cardboard keyboard.

On my day off, if the sun is shining, I like to take a dip in the pool. Now, can I help it if I'd rather fall asleep on a chaise lounge rather than do forty (or four) laps. After all, it is my day off and how can you rest churning water? Imagine! Someone had the audacity to suggest I was getting old when really I was just getting smart.

Then the real blow. “If you're so young, whacha doin' in a retirement center?” “What do you mean, old?” I scolded. Then he told me I'd get old hanging around all those elderly folks. Elderly folks! Those were his words, not mine. I asked him to explain but his attempt was pretty feeble. Aging, I told him, isn't a virus. You don't catch it from anybody.

He looked at me like I was crazy. Then he said to me, “Old people don't need religion. They need vitamins.” I didn't argue. I simply invited him to my office, took out my favorite bottle, and gave him a spoonful of spiritual Geritol. Incidentally, I don't think he'll be back.