by Steve Liddick
It’s funny how perspective changes over a lifetime. When I was ten-years-old I thought nothing of walking two miles to Tommy’s Ice Cream Parlor in Marysville for a cherry milkshake. Today I give careful thought to whether or not I’ll even get up off my easy chair and walk to the kitchen for a diet Coke.
It’s that way with whatever I’m wearing, too. There was a time when I would practically fling clothes on myself without any thought and race out of the house. Today, what should be the simple act of putting on a pair of socks could easily be compared to calisthenics.
I know my feet are down there somewhere beyond the flab and the aching joints. I’m just having trouble coordinating mind and body, which is further complicated by the addition of the socks. Joints don’t really bend in the direction you need them to in order to twist one’s body around to get a sock over five toes that are dead set against receiving it.
A pair of pants offers a similar challenge; two legs on the human, two legs on the pants. Tab A, Slot A. Repeat with Tab B. Simple, right? Well, I don’t know how it is with you young whippersnappers, but this old geezer has to hold onto something to get the job done. Even then, it is a struggle to coordinate the extremities with the target while hopping around the room, tugging, bouncing, straining and trying to avoid falling down.
I find that swearing is no help at all, but that never stops me.
And here’s another thing (“Oh, no, not another thing.”). There was a time when the space between the ringing of the alarm clock and my walking out the door was almost too short a span to measure. Fast forward to present day and I am here to tell you that if I still had to go to a 9 to 5 job I would have to start my preparation at 4 a.m.
In addition to the standard morning routine—which is difficult enough in and of itself—there is the pills and eyedrops regime, plus all the appliances one must locate and install: glasses—which I often have a hard time finding without my glasses—hearing aids, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. .
Thank God I don’t have a wooden leg or I’d never get out of here.