Coincidences? Karma?

In the end, I suppose, I consider the series of events that all seem to surround aging and that seem to be coming in waves during the past few days to be little else than a coincidence and related to the simple fact that when we're Playing in the Last Quarter we are intermingling with other Old Farts more often than before.

This weekend, a neighbor walked by as M and I were trying to get into our roadster and limping. "Two knee replacements and one of them didn't seem to have worked."

M, herself, has been struggling with the results of her slip and fall, this Summer, a torn bicep, and PDJ (Pervasive Degenerating Joints .... [not certain you'll find PDJ in Medical Books but lemme tell ya ... its all over the place if you jaw enough with Older Folk]).

Tuesday night's meeting of a bunch of old healers was disquieting. One of the older members (average age is over 75) is getting even more confused and certainly more belligerent. In the Old World, I envision such folk sitting in the Town Square and shaking their canes at passersby and kids playing ball in the street.

Then, last night's meeting of group that meets to discuss how we can help "Older Adults" stay in their homes without going Bananas, Bonkers and Bullocks ... or is that Bullox? (Like Castor (Oil) and Bullox ... the great constellations of the Late Evening Sky ... I mean THE LATE EVENING SKY!) We're putting together a Leaf Raking program ... and maybe a Snow-Shoveling program .... volunteers coming from the community to help their less vigorous neighbors. ... Suddenly occurred to me: I shouldn't volunteer for this program ... like, Howard ... I mean ... you're on the wrong side of 65. They're gonna find you motionless and frozen at the end of someone's driveway. Someone may think you're a coat-rack or something .... inert with one arm clutching your chest and the other reaching for a response from God.

And then there was the visitor to my office who was distressed by being 57 ... 'Even if I get better ... isn't my life over ... I'm 57.'

You know. The Fourth Quarter doesn't begin till 60 and some of us do hope to be Playing in Overtime before we forget where we hid the Ginkgo Paloba, get escorted home by a police cruiser, and can't tell the difference between Lunesta and Livitra.

Actually? It's been a pretty good week. Hope M is feeling better soon and GuntherDog doesn't abandon us both on some ice floe in the Arctic Circle.