I DON’T THINK YOU’RE UGLY
“Old age isn’t for sissies.” I’ll add that a good sense of humor also helps as we age.
Doug’s always been complimentary and thoughtful. He gave me three, count them…THREE surprise parties for my 60th birthday a couple of years ago. I think he was most proud of pulling off the surprise element, not that easy to do with me. But come on! Who’d expect more than one party birthday week? He’s good.
The next Sunday at church service he introduced a new praise song, “This is Your House.” We both wear head mikes. Mine was live since I sing and play from the piano. As I played the introduction he gave an impromptu mini-message:
“This is God’s house and we sing to Him, an audience of One. Just like last week my wife returned to our house to find the faces of many old friends and family there to surprise her, to honor her. She was home but also the guest at her 60th birthday party…”
“I can’t believe you just told the whole church how old I am!” Did I just say that out loud?
Through the house speaker and monitors? His head spun my way, wide–eyed. Yep. I must have said it out loud, forgetting my mike was on.
Men cringed. Women gasped. Pastor Mike laughed! Doug blinked rapidly, stared at the congregation and asked if anyone would let him go home with them today. I really didn’t mind telling my age. How could I after three parties? Still…men don’t announce their wives’ age publicly. Glad he doesn’t know my weight.
We still laugh at that one and he gets ribbed about it.
He means well.
One night years ago, Doug got in bed and I was way across the room, heading there. (You can tell it was years ago by the country decor!)
“Kathy, you’re still so beautiful.”
Aw-www, how sweet.
As I climbed in bed with him, he started rubbing his eyes. The next sentence out of his mouth was, “Remind me to get my eyes checked tomorrow.”
So! I look good far away but up close, you need your eyes examined? He’s still trying to declare no connection between the two sentences.
He means well.
Who ever decided to put giant mirrors in bathrooms right in front of tubs? Stupid idea.
Another night as I was coming from the giant-mirrored bathroom to bed, our pillow talk went something like this:
“Doug, I feel so old and fat and ugly!”
“Ohhh, Honey, I don’t think you’re ugly.”
End of sentence. Very pregnant pause.
THEN my face signaled his Uh-oh look. He tried to fix it with, “We-well, I know how old and fat feels.” Too little. Too late.
He means well.
My oldest grandson, J.D., is visiting this week.
He noticed me limping and asked why.
“I think it’s O.A.”
The ever curious 12 year old inquired, “What’s O.A mean?”
“I’m not sure yet, J.D. It’s either osteo arthritis or old age!” He laughed. He gets me.
Recently I teased another grandson, Sean-the-Serious, age 6. “Sean, I don’t know what to do. I just keep getting older and older. Even when I eat healthy and exercise, every morning I get up, it’s the same thing. I’m older than the day before! What can I do?”
He bit his lip, furrowed his brow and pondered for a long time. Finally he raised his eyebrows, cocked his red head and reluctantly shrugged the only conclusion he could reach, “Well, Nana, I guess ya' could just kill yourself!”
Old age isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative, as Sean did. Any day above ground is a good day. We get little pill boxes to fill weekly. We grow old. If we grow wise too, we excel at laughing at ourselves. That humor oils the creaky joints of life.