remember calculating, back in my early teens, how old I would be when the year 2000 rolled around and thinking, horrified, “OMG, what can you DO when you’re that old?”
Never mind how old that was. Suffice it to say that when the big 2000 finally rolled around I chuckled at my youthful preconception. There was little I wanted to do that my “advanced” age prevented.
Now here we are at the end of 2013. These days I’m not laughing as hard but there’s still a giggle in the old girl. Though not all of my parts are working as well as they used to, I can still do pretty much anything I WANT to do and I’m assured by friends in Puerto Penasco, Mexico that nothing is actually beyond me.
For instance, they are adamant that I’ll never be too old to learn to kayak and have invited me to give it a try. I think that might be something I’d enjoy, at least in the calm waters of the estuaries, so one of these days I’m going to hold them to that. Maybe after I finish this sandwich and wake up from my siesta…
Likewise, I’m always hearing about the wonders of scuba diving in the waters of the upper Sea of Cortez and lots of acquaintances have great fishing stories to share, so I’ve given some thought to diving and learning to fish.
Ah, but I’m claustrophobic and get seasick, and fish flopping around on the end of a hook kind of freak me out. Guess I’ll pass, though my waving arm is still good to go for seeing them off on their adventures and I’m perfectly willing to help eat those fish once they’ve been properly cleaned. I can still do that.
Exploring the great Pinacate Biosphere? Love it. Can I do it in a golf cart?
Golfing? Well, I don’t golf but it’s pleasant to walk along with those who do — at least for nine holes or so, after which my feet automatically head for the nearest chair and refreshments. My feet have a mind of their own.
I’m starting to see a pattern here.
Some people are the physically active type, others are the kick back in a hammock with a good book type. I’m obviously one of the latter, and all of my old parts are perfectly capable of doing that.
Give me a good beach to stroll, tide pools to explore, a dark night for star-gazing, carne asada with friends, laughter and good times in a welcoming community and something to write about and I’m a happy camper. Puerto Penasco and the rest of Mexico make all my old parts happy.
And when the time eventually comes for shuffling off my mortal coil, the grim reaper will have to drag me off Mexico’s beaches kicking and screaming (in true Baby Boomer fashion), “Hell no, I won’t go!”
You’re never too old to protest!
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