by Clint Younts
Today, as I’m writing this here column, is Memorial Day, a day to remember and honor all those military men and women who gave the ultimate price for our freedom. On this particular day, my American flag is flying and I salute all those who died protecting this great nation, allowing me the chance to live 60+ years in freedom. You see, today also just happens to be my birthday. Don’t go asking how old I am, because frankly, I don’t recall. Somewhere between 60 and 65, I reckon. My brain is a bit fuzzy due to six decades of bumping my head against short door frames, low-hanging branches, late night frying pans and saloon floors.
I know what year I was born, and with a calculator, I could do the math. But I need someone younger than these boots I’m wearing to show me again where that app is on my dang smart phone. I think someone over at that Apple company should make a phone that starts out smart but gets dumber and easier to use every year after we turn 60. It’s bad when I have to ask Alexa if she knows how to answer a call on my cellphone.
Speakin’ of Alexa, isn’t she great? I think every old coot needs one of these thingamajigs. For y’all less tech savvy folks, Alexa is a real smart lady who lives up high on a mountain (she once told me she lives in a cloud). If you can’t remember something, like what day is it or where you left your phone, you just talk to a box plugged into the wall. She will also tell you the weather forecast, remind you of doctor appointments and wedding anniversaries. She’s also a big help with your crossword puzzle.
Back to my birthday, I want to thank all my Facebook friends, some whom I actually have met, for all the nice wishes they posted. I also want to personally thank all the people who helped me get through the pandemic this past year. Thanks to all y’all who kept my cupboards full and mini-fridge stocked, and those who wore masks to keep me and others from catching the virus. Thanks to all those medical personnel and scientists who created a safe vaccine that has enabled me and millions of others to return to normal. Thanks to everyone who enabled me to celebrate my 63rd or 64th birthday.
With so many years of collecting data, trivial knowledge and memorable occurrences, some of you young whippersnappers under the age of 50 might be wishing I share some of my vast wisdom in order for you to reach my age, whatever the heck it is. So, grab a pencil and paper, or I reckon you can use that “smart” contraption that is always an arm’s length away, and get ready for school.
First of all, if you have teenaged kids, you will soon have gray hair. A little bit of gray makes men look “distinguished” but too much turns you into an old fart. Keep those gray hairs trimmed short and you’ll look younger. And start wearing a cap.
Keep your medicine cabinet well-stocked with Advil and heartburn medicine. Once you reach 60, you ache every stinkin’ day. And as soon as one body part stops hurting, another one begins to ache. As for your GI tract, something goes terribly wrong after you enter your golden years. It seems like stomach acid and noxious gases are always looking for a fast exit after a spicy meal. Have y’all ever noticed that when someone passes gas in a crowded room, everyone looks over at the old guy?
One other suggestion for you younger men: Find a good doctor and take his advice if you want a live a healthier, longer life. And if he advises you to stop eating red meat and cut back on beer, find a new doctor.
Slow down and enjoy the scenery. Life is too short to rush to your final destination. Enjoy the journey.
And one last bit of advice on living longer. Forget your age.