by Ernest Olson
Chapter 8
When memories become your life, you don’t have one.
Well, it has been weeks now since Heath challenged me to get a date. My health is back to normal, I have made a few furtive attempts at writing, and, no, I haven't had a single date. Heath on the other hand, to hear him tell it, has embarked on a whirlwind of activity that will either kill him or get him married. Of course, that would essentially be the same thing, so in any event, it appears that I am winning. Maybe getting old isn't so bad after all.
No really, I am seeing the advantages. For example, just a few days ago I saw a young male runner intimidated by mating sounds being shrieked by women in a passing car. A carload of nubile women can be terrifyingly aggressive when they see a tight butt and broad shoulders wearing nothing but running shorts and perspiration. Imagine how it is for a young male runner now days: alone, running along an urban road, with carloads of women yelling about his butt! However, fortunately, as one gets older, one's butt gets smaller and the attention it gets from women diminishes. If my butt gets any smaller, I will start slipping off chairs and my pants will slip down so far I will look like I'm trying to impersonate a teenager. It must be awful to have women undress you with their eyes. So demeaning! Of course, that never happens to me. On the contrary, women look at me and mentally cover me (no doubt with an imaginary body bag). So, there you have it, a definite advantage to getting older.
I know older people tend to reminisce more and do less. Old people seem to live in their memories, because for many I suppose that's all they feel they have left. For many older people, the options for play and activity are limited by ailments and illness. As Kathy says, "It’s tough dancing when your walker keeps bumping into your partner." Too many older people lose sight of their present, get lost in the past, and stop experiencing the joys of daily discovery. As I think about approaching sixty, I am beginning to understand what Betsy Edwards meant when she said, "It isn't so much the hardening of the arteries that kills you, but rather hardening of the attitudes."
My friend Fred says I shouldn't dwell on getting older. He says it alters my state of mind, which he claims is really quite youthful. So, enough of this kind of thinking. "You are only as old as you talk," says Fred. Plus, getting older, according to Fred, just allows you to become the younger woman's older man fantasy. Fred is an incredible optimist. With this refreshing perspective, I picked up the phone and called Heath.
"How is everything, young man?
"Hey, long time no hear, thought you had died or something," Heath chuckled into the phone.
"I thought I'd check on our wager and see how you were doing in the woman department?"
"You know I've been going out a lot, but no one special. No one until just recently that is!" He beamed into the phone. "I've been dating, met a very nice woman."
"That's wonderful," I lied.
"And you?"
"Oh me, things are good, I met a beautiful woman who just couldn't keep her hands off me."
"Your massage therapist?"
"Oh yeah, I used that line on you before, didn't I?"
"So, CB, I take it you aren't doing too well in the love and romance department," he said with a hint of a smile.
"On the contrary, women love the older man. Didn't you see the movie Entrapment? I am just great; I am in so much demand that I alone have depleted the nation's Viagra inventory. Thanks to me, Bob Dole can’t even get any. So tell me about this woman."
"Well, her name is Debbie. She works for a title company. She is 23, blonde, blue-eyed, about 5' 4" and 120 pounds. She is athletic, a rock-climber, loves dancing, has two kids, loves cooking, really likes football, loves all sports, and hopes to go back to school in the fall to become a dental hygienist, she...."
"Whoa! Whoa!" I interjected. "Did I hear you mention kids, she has two kids?"
"Yeah, but they are small, almost invisible."
"Married, divorced, husband in prison?"
"Uh, well, all three. She was married, is now divorced, and the father of the last baby is in Folsom Prison."
"Throw in a dog, a pickup truck, and some yellow ribbons and you have a country song."
Perspective--that is the fundamental difference between the young and the mature. As an older man, I can see beyond the succulent breasts, sultry lips and sensuous curves. I see kids with runny noses, angry jealous fathers, laundry, diapers, road trips filled with perspiration and exasperation, and a life characterized by bills, bills, and more bills.
"How serious is this young Heath?" I said in a tone that somehow reminded me of the movie Brave Heart.
"We get along well."
"I don't believe that was the question."
"Okay, we are kind of serious."
"Sex, have you had sex? No, let me be more precise, have you had sexual intercourse?"
"Absolutely."
"Protection?"
"No, we just, you know once we were alone, you know...after all she's just a woman and I am just a man and it just happened. We didn't have time to put on a condom."
I banged my head against the phone and moaned loudly, "Heath, Heath, Heath, for someone so bright you certainly have a stupid side. The reason we have the big head is to control the little head, it’s not supposed to be the other way around." I regained some composure and asked, "When did this deflowering occur?"
"Well, the first time was last week and since then we have been together almost every day. She's incredible--we even did it in the restroom during the lunch break at her office."
"I don't suppose you used protection any of those times, but then why would you since I am sure she's on the pill."
There was a pause and a hint of irritation in his voice, "Of course, she's on the pill. Neither one of us want her to get pregnant."
"And, disease isn't a possibility?"
"She's clean."
"You never know, today, you can't be too careful. Take candida for example, it can...."
"You sound like my mother...you worry too much. Nothing's going to happen...trust me."
The phone beeped indicating that I had another call, "Hold on a minute, got another call."
It was my travel agent, and since I wasn't really enjoying my chat with Heath, I used the interruption as an excuse for saying goodbye. Talking to Heath had been like talking to myself when I was about his age...an exhausting exercise.
The agent informed me that my tickets to Vienna could be picked up at anytime. Yes, I was going to Vienna. For the price of a facelift, I was going to Europe. I'll be damned if I am going to sit around and let the world pass me by. I refuse to become one of those people who constantly hearken back to their past and ultimately get lost in it. I intend to stay abreast of technology and someday I will even master programming my VCR (of course they are self-programming now). It was my friend Kathy who said, "When memories become more important than your present, it means you have stopped living." I don't want that to happen to me, but then again in reflecting on my conversation with Heath, it was easy to see which one of us was more alive.
Throw caution to the wind; jump face first into the hurricane. Yep, that will be me from this day forward. No more daydreaming about writing a novel. I'm going to live a novel! I'm traveling coach, and I have asked for a hotel without a view. And, get this, I am going to take the bus to the hotel--forget the shuttle or a taxi. Red will be my color and my password will be "bold."
I'm ready to take some chances. I am going to travel light, and I will throw caution aside when it comes to romance. I will have the moves of Don Juan and the confidence of Rush Limbaugh. I will be bold instead of old, daring instead of boring, and I won't be taking any condoms on this trip! So there Heath, I can be just as foolish as you can--even more so! After all, there is no fool like an old fool!