Miracle Cures

When my Dad was dying, one of his middle kids would bring him meds and supplements to take. I fondly remember his plaint: 'Every week she brings me this little white pill ... a different one every week ... but each one is promised to cure what ails me. I mean each one and they're all different.' Yesterday, on holiday and away from my office, one of my kids and the grandkids came, carting a "juicer" ... For those who aren't juiced yet, a juice extractor separates the pulp of vegetables and fruit (Kale, Squash, Cucumbers, Carrots, Apples and pairs ... you name it)from their juice and "micronutrients" (hey! just how SMALL are those nutrients?). The juice has a recognizable flavor ... one that wouldn't sell much in local supermarkets .... and another-Worldly color ... like WWII army green ... You wouldn't paint a car that color. Last week, I got to watch such documentaries on how juicing can change your life. Frankly, I'm ready for some Botanical Magic ... a resuscitation. Have been vacationing on the Eastern Shore of Virginia for 34 years, since the juicer, our youngest, was three. The 6 mile trek to the beach on board one of two bikes gets longer every year ... bridges get steeper ... more young folk passing my 1974 Raleighs (a Supercourse II and my favorite, an International)... pisses me off to have some 25-40 year old run by me with a "good morning". Good morning, my Ass, you young whippersnapper! The bikes are not the problem ... When I take them to mechanics, they offer to give me even-money for one of their carbon-graphite new-fangled models. The mechanics drool. When I bring my older edition body to the Doctors, they never offer to trade. I mean never. I'm waiting for just one -- man or woman -- to opine: Geez ... What I wouldn't give to have a body like you. There are no pictures on this blog! Back to vacation. Bottoms up! Juice? Down the hatch!