66 and not counting

Last weekend we had some friends over for dinner, and they brought us a gift. It was a potted Crepe Myrtle, a very thoughtful expression of friendship, and also a type of tree that both Barbara and I like. But if I plant it in my yard, by the time it becomes a significant addition to my aesthetically deprived front yard, I, myself, will probably have been planted. Such is the plight of anyone well-ensconced in the saggy-bottomed throne of Geezerdom: that many of their formerly routine decisions must be measured against the ever-encroaching, liver-spotted lava mass of time.

In my fifties, I never thought about these things, even when I received my first correspondence from AARP. In fact, I was insulted that they would even try to sweep me up in their wriggling catch of oxygen-gasping 60 and 70 year-olds, but these days, of course, I am a charter member, except for a very brief 60-day suspension in 2002 resulting from my lacing the prune punch with Viagra at a Gray Panthers “Swinging to the 50s” kegger. (Unfortunately, what could have been a riotously romantic evening was somewhat spoiled by the prunes taking effect long before the Viagra.)

Unfortunately now, I find myself doing the same calculations whenever I make a purchase. For instance, we need a new roof. They usually have a twenty-year guarantee. I’m 66, therefore, that would undoubtedly be my last roof. Of course, I do have the very attractive option, however, of becoming a three meals a day McDonald’s customer, making my walk to the mailbox my exercise regimen, smoking two packs a day, and then going for the 5 or 10 year roof. And just how many card do I have left in me? We like Toyota Camrys. We have one that’s 5 years old and one that’s 12 and showing no signs of stopping. Does that mean that I have 2 or maybe just 1 more car left before I enter Satan’s no-exit parking garage? Or do I buy 20 used Pintos over the next 20 years? Maybe the act of making those 20 purchases will make it seem like I’m actually living longer, instead of just sitting back and watching 1 or 2 Camrys and myself in a race to see who will oxidize first.

And what about lifetime guarantees? Big f’ing deal. If I were 20 or 30 or 40, that’s an impressive selling point. Give me the 20 year one at the same price.

And then there are the simple, sometimes everyday purchases, such as toothpaste, food, toilet paper, laundry detergent, etc. Maybe at my age I shouldn’t even stock up beyond two weeks. But how creepy would it be to buy a 20 year supply of beer which, based on my average consumption, would amount to approximately 6,400 cans and start the countdown. Each week I’d look at my enormous supply of suds and say, somewhat melancholy at first, “Well, I’ve got 6,393 beers left” and so on until I reached, say, a case. Then I might be tempted to start having beerless Tuesdays or becoming a temporary Southern Baptist, sort of trying to delay the inevitable, playing with fate, I guess you could say. But what if I exceed the 6,4000, then it becomes a day to day situation and I never know which is going to be my last beer. But that’s the way it is right now, so essentially this dumb article is just taking up space and you, the reader, would, no doubt, like t force-feed me my last beer, can and all.

Never mind. I don’t feel quite as obsessive-compulsively fatalistic about measuring out my life in a big ticket items or small purchases after having taken a “Longevity IQ” test in The AARP Magazine. Since I began this article I have learned that, based on a number of factors such as diet, exercise, stress-coping, overall health, etc., I will live to 96. Irony has a bitter taste, but obviously, I have grossly misjudged AARP, and my only immediate threat is strangulation by pride. So forget all the negative crap I said about getting old, at least til 10 years from now, when I’ll probably resume my lugubrious lament. In the meantime, I’m purchasing a roof with a 30 year guarantee—right after hurricane season ends, which, figuring in the global warming factor, should be around Christmas (2007).