Gramps
Mayor
I was once a kid. It was okay but I looked forward to becoming a man. Before that occurred there were times I thought I was a man but still held onto the perks that are reserved for kids. Then, reality struck. I was a man. I was a soldier. I was loaded down with responsibility and really wished I was a kid once again. But going back wasn't an option. So I embarked on the adventures of being a man and wore them with a sense of pride. I could drive cars, hang around the pool hall without garnering disapproving stares from the elders and jingle my pocket change with a bit of pride that goes with being a grown-up.
Still, I glanced back every now and then and recalled the joys of being a kid with a certain amount of envy. But nature intervened and I became a father, a daddy with a son and a daughter. And it was the beginning of another trip through the fantasyland of being a kid myself. Now I could get down on my hands and knees again and play with toys or take off on a hike through the timber playing mentor to the kids. And it was a blast. I was a kid again in a man's body who could cash in on the advantages of being an adult but still act like a kid.
But, darn it, those kids grew up and it was back to the drudgery of being an adult. Mostly work and very little play in a body all too often wracked with pain; a sinkhole where the mind was willing but the flesh was weak. However, still held accountable for bad decisions and rarely rewarded for good ones. There were moments when I'd drift back in time and visualize a re-run of those days when, as a kid, I could pretend to be whatever I wished and ingnored all of the times I wanted to become a man and leave the utopian segment of life behind.
Then, suddenly I was old. It was fun making the trip once more with the grandkids but it took its toll. I had to work at playing catch or when pitching a football to one of them. I guess the real joy was seeing them dart after the ball I misdirected and come running back with a grin on their face unaware that I couldn't keep the pace for very long, shouting, "C'mon, grandpa. I'm over here not where you threw that ball".
Finally I arrived at the last station in life -- that second childhood. Whoa, there. I wasn't ready for that. I had little say regarding the tranformations that dictate what stage of life I travelled. This was final. Gee, I would like to've hung onto the adult category awhile longer but time had dealt me the hand and I had no choice but to the play those cards. I was a kid again, hardly able to do what I did again and it really didn't matter because a winning hand couldn't restore my ravaged body and make me young again. It was obvious my second childhood would be nothing like my first.
It was one hellova trip while it lasted; a trip that began with my being a kid and ended up being a kid. It's called breaking even.
Have a nice Sunday.
Gramps
Still, I glanced back every now and then and recalled the joys of being a kid with a certain amount of envy. But nature intervened and I became a father, a daddy with a son and a daughter. And it was the beginning of another trip through the fantasyland of being a kid myself. Now I could get down on my hands and knees again and play with toys or take off on a hike through the timber playing mentor to the kids. And it was a blast. I was a kid again in a man's body who could cash in on the advantages of being an adult but still act like a kid.
But, darn it, those kids grew up and it was back to the drudgery of being an adult. Mostly work and very little play in a body all too often wracked with pain; a sinkhole where the mind was willing but the flesh was weak. However, still held accountable for bad decisions and rarely rewarded for good ones. There were moments when I'd drift back in time and visualize a re-run of those days when, as a kid, I could pretend to be whatever I wished and ingnored all of the times I wanted to become a man and leave the utopian segment of life behind.
Then, suddenly I was old. It was fun making the trip once more with the grandkids but it took its toll. I had to work at playing catch or when pitching a football to one of them. I guess the real joy was seeing them dart after the ball I misdirected and come running back with a grin on their face unaware that I couldn't keep the pace for very long, shouting, "C'mon, grandpa. I'm over here not where you threw that ball".
Finally I arrived at the last station in life -- that second childhood. Whoa, there. I wasn't ready for that. I had little say regarding the tranformations that dictate what stage of life I travelled. This was final. Gee, I would like to've hung onto the adult category awhile longer but time had dealt me the hand and I had no choice but to the play those cards. I was a kid again, hardly able to do what I did again and it really didn't matter because a winning hand couldn't restore my ravaged body and make me young again. It was obvious my second childhood would be nothing like my first.
It was one hellova trip while it lasted; a trip that began with my being a kid and ended up being a kid. It's called breaking even.
Have a nice Sunday.
Gramps
