It doesn’t seem to matter how old you are -things still seem to go wrong.
Since coming home from the hospital, I have pretty much remained homebound and not driven anywhere.
As I’ve previously mentioned, I have been a “Waffle House Regular” for probably 40 years. Our original group has really thinned out over the years, but those of us who are left, meet each Friday afternoon at the one south of town.
I haven’t been able to join them for a month, but last Friday I absolutely had to get my paycheck in the bank at Delta and looked forward to seeing them all again.
I think they were planning on my being there as last Friday was my birthday. I can’t believe this, but on that day I tuned 84 years of age. I was born 12-2-32 and if it didn’t rhyme, I couldn’t remember it!
I pulled in at 3 p.m. and over the next half hour all the ol’ regulars drifted in and I was surely glad to see them. Then out came the brightly colored cupcakes and they threw a birthday party for me. Some of us have known each other for 50 years and it was a heartfelt occasion.
I ate one with a lovely shade of green icing on it and when I got home I found remnants of this pretty green icing all over a sleeve.
Earlier I had picked up my mail at the post office and sat down to open a lot of cards from a lot of thoughtful people.
Of course, I can only get round with a walker and later that evening I backed up to sit it my chair and enjoy a Hallmark movie, when I realized, too late, that I was going to miss the chair, knock over a magazine rack, breaking one of its legs and land on the floor. And yes, I said a bad word.
My children, who both live out west, provided me with that button you push when you need help. It hangs from my walker and I sat there staring at it. Finally I got the guts to push that button and soon a firetruck was on its way.
I live in a neighborhood of 100 houses all occupied by seniors.
The Fayetteville Fire Department is used to coming in here, no lights or sirens, walk in, pick up a very embarrassed old lady and leave. I won’t forget my 84th birthday.
My dad always got the local newspaper every day, and I have always done the same. In Georgia, I have taken the Atlanta Journal Constitution for 57 years – at that time it was two newspapers and I subscribed to both of them.
Now I have to have the newspaper thrown way up on the porch at my door. Sunday morning there was no paper and I called the AJC to have one delivered and explained where it had to be left.
Unfortunately when it came it was left in the pouring down rain way out in front of my house. So I called AJC again, the lady said they could not come back, then wished me a nice day, and hung up.
It’s almost a New Year and I am surely looking forward to it being an uplifting one.
