The fun — and rejoicing — of ‘growing old’

Lately I’ve been bombarded with propaganda telling me to rejoice in growing older.

Have you seen all those TV commercials of happy, frolicking gray-haired folk? There seem to be pills or procedures remedying any unhappy result of aging.

And not only do they cure you of aches and incapacities, but you learn how to dance or play the guitar or fly fish!! (Oh, I almost forgot — I already know how to fly fish. It’s just that my balance is so bad, I have trouble wading in the river, so I don’t go much anymore!)

And you get to drive those neat classic cars that remind you of how young and carefree you used to be.

There used to be Testosterone Bomb commercials to get that little friend perky enough to have some fun. Alas! Too many old guys looking to turn back the clock 20 years used those products and came down with prostate cancer. So you can erase that Old Guy Remedy from your list.

I also wonder if everyone who signs up for AARP automatically gets mailed weekly fliers from hearing aid companies. I finally bit and ordered one. Alas! I put them in and my wife’s words sounded as if they were coming out of a Chinese blender.

The hearing aids did make the refrigerator more sociable. I wonder how I ever survived without hearing that monstrous humming! And traffic!

Well, I live a good half mile from a highway, but thanks to my hearing aids, it sounded like garbage trucks were racing down my driveway! I mailed them back after a “suitable” breaking in period. Good riddance.

And what is it with all these people with happy dentures or tooth implants? No thanks. I’ll hang on to my own teeth for as long as I can.

Bad knee? Have you heard about the Get aRound knee? Just replace your defective part and you will be hiking up to the top of Mt. Whitney. With a big smile on your face!

Forget the excruciating three months of pain you went through to get your knee replaced. No thanks! I’ll take a Tylenol and grit my teeth.

And give your bathroom mirror a makeover. Wrinkle removing cream, plastic surgery, hair dyes/implants. No need to look 70 or 80.

I don’t buy it. I tried to “improve” my looks several years ago by disguising my gray hair. The process left me looking ridiculous, not younger.

Now I’m probably just as vain as most men my age. Shallow as a pancake griddle when it comes to my looks. I work out at the gym and can still do 100 push ups (ahem, three sets of 35) and I check the mirror every week for crops of hair growing out of my ears or nose.

Thank God that I have a wife who can give me a pedicure because the last time I could touch my toes was when I was a teenager.

But here’s the thing, as you can guess.

I’m not cheering the ticking clock that lately seems to be on steroids. I was hoping to take my grandsons backpacking with me. But the last time I went — by myself — I took a wrong turn and ended up in the wrong direction.

By the time I backtracked and found the lake, a one hour walk in the park had turned into a three hour Navy Seal trek. When I had bushwhacked my steep way to the lake, I collapsed on the dirt without enough energy to swat the mosquitoes looking for my carotid artery.

I know what some people are thinking. But don’t you enjoy the freedom of being retired from the rat race? Not having to go to that 9-5 job?

Well, I’d rather be 50 with a bundle of money and also retired to boot. Besides — what retirement? I had to give that up and work part time as a substitute teacher just to keep up with the rising cost of everything.

And then there are those people who try to kid you about how nice it is to have grown in wisdom. They say that the older you get, the more patient you become. Bull pucky! I lose my temper at least twice a day when I walk into a room and forget what I went in there for. And don’t get me started about yelling at the TV whenever I see that clown’s face!

No life of Reilly for me when I retired from teaching. I was Grandpa Day Care after one year of retirement when I officially retired from teaching back in 2009. My wife was working full time — ditto my daughter and son-in-law, so it was up to me to recall how to change stinky diapers.

Nap time for me was out of the question when the two kids took their naps at different times. Not much kickbacking those years when I took care of my grandkids five days a week.

And I am so looking forward to the day when my legs are weak and I can tool around the house in one of those chair scooters that are free to the infirm and “elderly.”

I can just see myself doing wheelies in the living room as I try to remember where I left my reading glasses. And my wife will holler at me from the kitchen, “Why don’t you look in the bathroom by the sink!”

And I will get mad because with my bad hearing I will think she said, “Why don’t you take a bath, you stink!”

Don’t get me started about the “fun” of growing old.

Bob Miller is a 48-year resident of the mountain area and a former English teacher, football/baseball coach at Yosemite High School. He keeps his brain sharp as a Q-tip by substitute teaching at the overly ripe age of 78. He enjoys traveling and taking short hikes with his wife and grandkids. And reading such books as “The Cat in the Hat” and Bill Bryson’s “A Walk in the Woods.” He thinks what the world could use in these crazy times is a good laugh. He can be reached at writerbob46@gmail.com.