I just returned from a trip to Orlando. Most of my time was
spent at a convention, but Susanne and I did take one day to go to Sea World.
Susanne wanted to see the penguins and I was curious about what might have
changed since my last visit about forty years ago.
One of the differences which became obvious fairly quickly
was that we were a lot older than most of the visitors. Not many folks in their
sixties or seventies. What’s with that?
Since I still felt about twelve inside, however, it didn’t
slow me down…much. However, as I stood in line to do the roller coaster water
slide, I started to understand. The entire time I waited in line I was besieged
by the warnings trying to scare away old people. We were informed that people
with heart problems, high blood pressure, fainting issues, headaches, diabetic
coma problems and about seventeen other potential health problems should not do
the ride. It was worse than hearing the side effects for all the prescription
drugs they try to sell us on TV. It turned out to be a mild type of roller
coaster and I seemed to survive okay. I think that all the warnings
were the scariest part.
They were right about getting wet, however. I realized I was
probably in trouble when even the kids were suddenly pulling out ponchos once
we got into the cars. As I emerged soaking wet in a tee shirt, Susanne pointed
out that the Antarctica exhibit was right next door. Still in my twelve year
old mind set, I said let’s go. I realized my mistake when we got inside and the
guides were wearing ski parkas. I lasted about ninety seconds in the sub-freezing
penquin exhibit, and then waited in the sunshine outside while Susanne spent
another ten minutes developing a close friendship with the guide and the little
stars of the show.
The rest of the park was about as expected and didn’t seem
too different from my last trip there. There were dolphin and seal shows, and
sharks and small whales, and lots and lots and lots of walking. I was starting to figure
out why the grandparents were all sitting by the pool at the hotel. We made it
for about five hours and then collapsed for the rest of the day and night.
In reality I had a few worn parts by the end of the day and
also, after spending part of the day in a very cold, wet tee shirt, I had
to concede that my twelve year old mind was preventing me from reaching that “age
of wisdom” that is supposed to be one of the benefits of getting older.
The following poem Spare
Parts (Daydreams, Snap
Screen Press, 2004) pretty much says it all.
Glenn K. Currie
Spare Parts
Part
of me,
Is
getting old.
Hesitant
steps,
Which
once were bold.
My
body’s strength,
Starting
to soften,
Repair
bills coming,
Much
too often.
Part
of me,
Is
still a child.
A
playful mind,
Easily
beguiled.
But
youthful players,
Now
pass me by,
An
aging façade,
Draws
empty eyes.
Part
of me,
Is
out of sight,
Yesterday’s
dreams,
Lost
in the night.
All
the things,
That
might have been,
Hidden
now,
By
what I am.
Part
of me,
Is
still a fool,
A
circling pilot,
Losing
fuel.
Trying
to be,
What
I’m not,
Wasting
the parts,
That
I’ve still got.
And
part of me,
Has
learned a lot,
Hard-earned
lessons,
Painfully
taught.
Things
accomplished,
Things
still to do,
An
age of wisdom,
Would
be something new.
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