Good Luck
Today at the bus stop, I meant a man who said he was 95 years old. That’s just about twice my age. Despite the milkiness of his pale blue eyes and the gnarliness of his arthritic hands, he seemed in pretty good shape. Great shape, actually, considering. I wish I would have gotten his name; for now, I’ll just call him “Pops.”
Pops said that the secret to his longetivity was that he worked outdoors most of his life. “I was a carpenter; I worked on boats; I got a lot of fresh air. I don’t understand these stenographers,” he continued. “They sit all day long hunched over a desk inside. No wonder they get big backsides.”
“I was born in 1909, in Ballard. It was a small town then. Small towns are great. People are kinder,” he said, voicing a view not uncommon to folks of his generation. But he wasn’t a luddite; “We need this monorail,” he argued. “That’s progress. That’s the future.”
I asked him what he did with his days these days. “I get up at 4:00 in the morning, and I keep the ball rolling all day until I got to bed about 9:00. That’s what keeps me healthy, doing things.”
His opening gambit to me was to ask how many miles I typically got out of my bicycle tires. “I was just wondering,” he explained.
I hope I’m still wondering about things at 95.
Pops would have been my age in 1957, the year I was born. 47 years from now seems a lot farther away then does 47 years ago. I wonder what I’ll say to someone my age in the year 2051. I wonder if there will even be bikes around to have tires to wonder about.
Pops said that he had always had good luck. And he wished me “real good luck” when I got on the bus. I think I already had good luck today meeting him.
Pops said that the secret to his longetivity was that he worked outdoors most of his life. “I was a carpenter; I worked on boats; I got a lot of fresh air. I don’t understand these stenographers,” he continued. “They sit all day long hunched over a desk inside. No wonder they get big backsides.”
“I was born in 1909, in Ballard. It was a small town then. Small towns are great. People are kinder,” he said, voicing a view not uncommon to folks of his generation. But he wasn’t a luddite; “We need this monorail,” he argued. “That’s progress. That’s the future.”
I asked him what he did with his days these days. “I get up at 4:00 in the morning, and I keep the ball rolling all day until I got to bed about 9:00. That’s what keeps me healthy, doing things.”
His opening gambit to me was to ask how many miles I typically got out of my bicycle tires. “I was just wondering,” he explained.
I hope I’m still wondering about things at 95.
Pops would have been my age in 1957, the year I was born. 47 years from now seems a lot farther away then does 47 years ago. I wonder what I’ll say to someone my age in the year 2051. I wonder if there will even be bikes around to have tires to wonder about.
Pops said that he had always had good luck. And he wished me “real good luck” when I got on the bus. I think I already had good luck today meeting him.
posted by Professor Dave at 6:10 PM
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