Growing old. Beats the alternative.

I suppose if I worry about anything, it's about wearing out some day. Physically. Mentally. I keep telling people not to worry. Yes, don't worry. Be happy. And for the most part, I follow my advice. But I do occasionally worry during my down moments. Worry about growing old and decrepit. Yes, becoming old and wrinkled. Bent over. Doddering. Even slow-witted. I see so many people in their 80s and 90s. Maybe I should take solace in that. So many do survive that long. But the fact is, many of them don't look good. Yes, they look old and decrepit. Of course, there are exceptions. And if I live that long, I hope to gawd I'm one of the exceptions. George Bush's father looks gaunt and old. But he's still active. Went skydiving on his 85th birthday. That's more daring than anything I'd do, even at 73. Albeit, I'm in love. With someone actually younger than me. That's daring. Maybe equivalent to jumping out of an airplane. Maybe I should worry about keeping up with a spring chicken, so to speak. Anyway, I do see something funny about it all. About my dabbling with the thought of growing old. But by golly, I guess it beats the alternative. --Jim Broede