Aging

Inching Toward Eighty

Or the joys of turning 78.

Bob Jasper
Crow’s Feet
Published in
6 min readFeb 2, 2023

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Photo by Mathias Konrath on Unsplash

A friend says age is only a number. I beg to differ. My body tells me otherwise, and so do other people. My wife keeps telling me to act my age. I tell her I would, but I don’t know how.

My body creaks, but I can still get out of bed in the morning, dress myself, and move about on my own. “Vertical and taking sustenance,” as my boss used to say.

My wife and I greet one other each morning with a hug and an inventory: Vertical again ... walking and talking — check; able to see, feel, smell (bad breath!?) — check; and we can hear each other. It’s going to be another good day on the green side.

Some say life begins at 60. I’d say 66. That’s when I retired and started this new phase. I’m only 12 years into it, but so far, it’s the best job I’ve ever had. I love my boss, too, which helps.

Sure, our minds may be getting a little slippery.

  • We make a shopping list and then forget it on the dining room table. (It must be God testing us to see how many items we can remember.) If we come home with 50 percent of what was on the list, it’s a good day!
  • We drive down the street a block or two, then wonder if we closed the garage door. Back we go. So far, it…

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Bob Jasper
Crow’s Feet

My Muse is in hiding, but we cross paths from time to time. I think I gave the old guy too much grief. Maybe he quit without notice.