You know you're getting old when the candles
needed would set off the sprinkler system.
Copyright © 2025
by Ralph F. Couey
This post's title is a line from the Simon and Garfunkel song "Old Friends." The song tells the story of two old men who sit in the park every day together on a bench, simply passing the hours. At one point, Simon sings, "How terribly strange to be seventy." It's a poignant line, a somber nod to the creeping inevitability of age.
I reached that milestone this year, May 23rd, and that particular verse has been echoing in my mind. It's kinda funny in that in the past, I had always considered 70 to be incredibly ancient, perhaps even archaeological. And now, here I am. There are the usual maladies associated with aging, but nothing really serious or life-threatening. One of my friends, after listening to my ruminations, said, "Hey, you've still got your knees, your hips, and your hair. Be happy with that!" He was correct, and I am well aware that many others never made it this far with this much intact.
The day itself was uneventful. Cheryl was in Japan with her sister, niece, and youngest daughter, embarking on a once-in-a-lifetime trip to her ancestral homelands. I had just returned from Virginia, spending some precious time with our son and his family. I slept in and took myself out for breakfast, pancakes, of course. I went to the local IHOP only to discover it had been shuttered. I went to Zippy's instead, a local classic that makes really good pancakes. I feasted happily.
I went home and, after some TV watching, I got busy cleaning house, in anticipation of Cheryl's return. Part of that effort was ripping up the old, nasty, and unlamented carpet in the living room. That was hard work, but seeing that beautiful wood floor emerge made me wonder why we ever covered it up in the first place.
