The Autumn Years: Nature's Gift

Autumn, in all her finery, is upon us. What better way could there be to describe us Seniors than being in the Autumn of our lives ? It is, indeed, the perfect description.

The Autumn season is mellow. The harvest is nearing completion, the cider's in the jug, the fireside's aglow. It's a time for slowing down, reflecting on the year that's drawing to a close, and enjoying life's goodness.

It's my favorite time of year. I believe that I inherited my love of the season from my father. It was Dad's favorite season as well. Every year,until my mother's death, when the woods were in their full glory, and with the first hard frost, just like clockwork, Dad would burst through the kitchen door, smiling and laughing and then he'd recite James Whitcomb Riley's wonderful ode to Autumn, start to finish, with gusto.

WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN
by: James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916)

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here--
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock--
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries--kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below--the clover over-head!--
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...
I don't know how to tell it--but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me--
I'd want to 'commodate 'em--all the whole-indurin' flock--
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

As the trees began to turn, I was contemplating Autumn's joys, the leisure time. I envisioned long, contemplative evenings with my Darlin' Darlene, the fireplace lit, a good book, sitting back in my comfy chair with a glass of Port or a fine Bordeaux, just unlaxing. But, it was not to be.

One late September afternoon, we encountered our wonderful neighbors, Joe and Machelle and Elliot, the quintessential Dog, from across the way. They were exuberant in describing a wondrous addition to our local High School; the Spring Lake Community Fitness and Aquatic Center. They had been to the Open House and were totally smitten, and it was for the entire community, not just the students. My Darlin Darlene's eyes lit up like the finest Halowe'en Jack-O-Lantern, and I'm certain that I saw furtive glances from both her and Machelle toward my ever growing waistline. I sensed that my contemplative evenings, getting fatter, were fleeting. "We'll just have to check it out", said Dar. "You bet", said I. My Autumn Nocturne had been altered.

So, check it out we did, and that very night, surprise of surprises, we were members. Not only were we members, I actually perused the Activity Schedule and found a class innocuously titled, "Senior Circuit Training Team: a total body fitness program", which I joined. The Lord Himself, must have been shocked. I'm still in disbelief, though every muscle in my body is now a true believer.

I've been working out on machines that are nothing short of modern adaptation's of Torquemada's designs for the Inquisition. Lucy, one of the Inquisitor's henchmen (henchladies ?), has promised that I'll be a "New Man". New, I guess. This program will have to result in a miraculous replacement of every one of my muscles because there's no way my old ones will ever survive. Now please understand because I don't; this is not only voluntary, I have paid good old American dollars for the privilege. I do this every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, with the class, and on Saturday as a matter of choice.

My Darlin' Darlene has dived right into a Water Aerobics class in the evening, during which, I go and play with hordes of children in the Leisure Pool. They even dive with goggles in the hot tub. I must be possessed or perhaps, repossessed.

Seriously now, my Banner line says, "Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body. But rather to skid in sideways, Martini in hand, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “WOO-HOO what a ride!”

My take on it is that our Senior years should be enjoyed with vigor; to enjoy these "Golden Years" to the fullest. That mission cannot be accomplished properly with a body that is grossly overweight and totally out of condition. I have bought in to this conditioning program, and I am honestly enjoying it. Oh yes, I get stiff and sore for a bit on the off days, but I'm committed to giving that potential "New Man" a shot at happening, and so should you. Yes, it's much easier to just sit back and watch your life slide by. But to grab it by the throat, and wring every last ounce of everything life offers from it, is far more satisfying. You owe it to yourself and to your spouse or partner. I assuredly want to "...skid in sideways...body thoroughly used up, totally worn out...", but I want to do it, looking good. Oh, and don't forget that Martini or glass of Bordeaux.

These are the Autumn years. There are no more Spring and Summer years. But there are still places to go, people to see, poems to read memorize and recite. Doing it as fit as possible will only make it better.

Hallowe'en is nigh on us, and I'll leave you with this. My Dad's favorite poet was James Whitcomb Riley. I related earlier how he would recite his favorite poem. He had committed more than one to memory. Each Hallowe'en, when I was quite young, just before we were to head out for an evening of "Trick or Treat", which was always after dark back then, he would sit us down and scare the Bejeesus out of my brother and me by reciting Riley's "The Little Orphan Annie".

The Little Orphan Annie
by
James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphan Annie's come to my house to stay.

To wash the cups and saucers up and brush the crumbs away.

To shoo the chickens from the porch and dust the hearth and sweep,

And make the fire and bake the bread to earn her board and keep.

While all us other children, when the supper things is done,

we sit around the kitchen fire and has the mostest fun,

a listening to the witch tales that Annie tells about

and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!

Once there was a little boy who wouldn't say his prayers,

and when he went to bed at night away up stairs,

his mammy heard him holler and his daddy heard him bawl,

and when they turned the covers down, he wasn't there at all!

They searched him in the attic room and cubby hole and press

and even up the chimney flu and every wheres, I guess,

but all they ever found of him was just his pants and round-abouts

and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!

Once there was a little girl who always laughed and grinned

and made fun of everyone, of all her blood and kin,

and once when there was company and old folks was there,

she mocked them and she shocked them and said, she didn't care.

And just as she turned on her heels and to go and run and hide,

there was two great big black things a standing by her side.

They snatched her through the ceiling fore she knew what shes about,

and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!

When the night is dark and scary, and the moon is full

and creatures are a flying and the wind goes Whoooooooooo,

you better mind your parents and your teachers fond and dear,

and cherish them that loves ya, and dry the orphans tears

and help the poor and needy ones that cluster all about,

or the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!!

Dad was fun.

Have yourself a wonderful day, because it's a wonderful day out there !

Later,

Don Lehr (Michguy)

No Friends Like Old Friends

First, I must apologize to all of you loyal Senior Speak visitors who check in regularly, just thirsting for more, only to be disappointed that I haven't posted any new whatevers, to enlighten and regale you. I've been busy; very, very busy. Other than that, not much has been happening. I will be posting much more regularly, so save this site in your Favorites and come back often.

Now for the good stuff.

A short time ago, Mitch Albom did a piece for Parade magazine called "How I Got Young Again", in which he told about what he did for his Fiftieth birthday. He said that this gift to himself was his best birthday gift, ever.

He went back to his hometown in New Jersey and contacted his old best friends; the members of his teen-age rock band called "The Lucky Tiger Grease Stick Band". They always practiced in Mitch's basement. His old home had been sold long before, but the present owners, God bless 'em, agreed to let the reunited "Lucky Tiger Greasers" use their basement, one last time. Ya just gotta love this video ! But, after you watch it, keep reading. "The Lucky Tiger Grease Stick Band" is just the opening act.



In his piece, Mitch had two great "Before and After" photos, one of the 8 members (remember that number, 8) taken when they were teen-agers, and one taken at the band's reunion. Unfortunately, I couldn't locate those photos. But, there are No Friends Like Old Friends, especially if, like Mitch Albom, you have 7 of them.

You're about to meet 7 of the main reasons why "I yam who I yam". You probably don't care, but, it is my website, so please humor me. These are 7 of the finest Old Friends (more like brothers) that a man could have. "The Guys". Not quite as catchy as "The Lucky Tiger Grease Stick Band", but we don't play instruments and sing either.

The Guys

L to R, Front: Ram, Lehr, Stek, Schans
L to R Rear: Chas, Fuzz, Toad, Dirk

Photo taken in 1962

L to R, Front: Ram, Lehr, Stek, Schans
L to R, Rear: Chas, Fuzz, Toad, Dirk

Photo taken in 2002

I met Fuzz in the Spring of 1955, Chas in the Fall of '55, and the other Guys in the Fall of '57, in High School. We were just your typical mild-mannered, respectful teen-agers then, and I think you'll agree that we've all improved with age. We never got in any trouble, but my Darlin' Darlene says that that's only because we never got caught.

One tiny character flaw does come to mind though, that I'll share with you. It occurred in the Spring of our Senior Year in High School. Like all Senior classes, we had elections to decide career changing issues like class colors, class song (hymn), class Bible verse (we attended Grand Rapids Christian High School), class idiot etc. Toad was the Class President or Vice-President, I don't recall which, but he and a few of us other Guys were in charge of counting the ballots. Why they actually put us in charge of anything was a major lapse on their part, in my opinion, so they actually caused us to fall part way from Grace anyway.

The counting went well except for the winning song (hymn). I had been chosen by our Choir Czarina to be the Senior who was to sing the Class song (hymn) at Graduation. The winning song (hymn) was one that I particularly disliked, since it had an extremely high note that I could not hit without screeching. I told Toad, "Ain't no wayI'm singin' that song (hymn)". Typically, Toad said, "No problem. Which one of the other song (hymn) nominees would you like". I sensed a problem and said, " What about the ballots?" Toad replied, "We'll burn 'em. All important elections should have the ballots burned. If it's good enough for the Catholics, it's good enough for us." As it happened, a new Pope had just been elected, and it had been all over the news, and the burning of the Papal ballots had apparently caught Toad's fancy. We weren't Catholic, but borrowing a little from Church Tradition didn't really amount to a conversion, was pretty much how our logic went.

So, we went in search for a ballot burning vessel. We approached George the Janitor, and asked for a can or something. He said he didn't have a can but he had a cardboard box. Curiously, he never asked what we needed it for, but he did say that he definitely needed it back. We promised to return it. We proceeded to the School parking lot, and ignited the ballots which promptly ignited the box. We beat out the flames, and re-ignited the ballots, which re-ignited the box, and ...you get the picture. It required several re-ignitions to destroy the evidence without totally destroying the box, which we dutifully returned to George the Janitor. He just stared at the box. I guess we expected him to show some sort of surprise. We'll never know. Throwing an election is not something to take lightly, and it did weigh heavily on me and caused me to question my personal integrity for a time. I'm sure it had the same effect on the other Guys, but we've gotten over it. I got through the song (hymn) nicely, thank you very much.

Unlike Mitch, we've kept in close touch throughout all of the ensuing years, and the friendships have just grown stronger. We're scattered from Salt Lake City to Ponte Vedra Beach, and places between, but like old friends everywhere, whenever we get together, and we do quite often, it's as if we'd never left.

I'll revisit the Guys from time to time here in these posts, perhaps with titles like:

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

Chicken Thief, What's In a Name; How I Discovered Respect For The Law

Bridge and Blackjack May Come and Go, But Setback Lives Forever

Beer; An Acquired Taste

Grandma's Olds; Door One or Door Two ?

So, love your new friends but cherish your old ones. They've come a long way with you, and they love you in spite of it all.

I welcome your comments, questions, suggestions or criticisms, so please click on the Comment button and fire away.

Have yourself a wonderful day, because it's a wonderful day out there.

Later,

Don Lehr (Michguy)

Feeling "Senior" ?

Bette Davis once said, "Old age is no place for sissies". In fact, she had it embroidered on a pillow that was prominently placed on a sofa. I'm not sure if she was right or not, since I'm not "old", yet. I hope to be one day, but for now, I'm fairly content with just being "Senior". I don't know when you actually become "old", but I think it happens when you just feel "old", and I must admit, I have my moments.

I felt a little old (I got tired of typing those " "s ) last week when I was picking up a prescription, which can make you feel a little old, in and of itself. The Pharmacist handed my drugs to a young assistant, and gestured to me. The young lady asked, obviously thinking that I couldn't hear her, "Oh, for that older fellow ?". Yep, I felt a little old, but only for a moment.

For quite some time now, I've enjoyed claiming my Senior discounts. That has never bothered me a bit. There's something heartwarming about paying $4.00 for a $7.50 movie ticket. But, lately I've been getting a few discounts without asking for them, and that kinda makes me feel old, but only for a moment.

I get the AARP publications in the mail, and find myself looking over my shoulder to see if any neighbors noticed, but, what the heck, most of them are older than me anyway. I'm starting to get fliers about Diabetic supplies, and VIAGRA! for Pete's sake. And, of all things, last week I got a catalog in the mail from "Active and Able, Products That Make Daily Living Easier". I felt incensed, and somewhat older, but only for a moment. Unfortunately, these moments appear to be happening more often, as I get...older.

Last evening, our oldest grandson, Ryan, called. It seems that he has proposed to his wonderful Jeanette, and she accepted. We had been anticipating this for some time now. I can't speak for my Darlin' Darlene, but that made me feel OLD. And, the moment hasn't quite passed. I expect the feeling will lurk there, in the back of my mind, since his announcement carries with it the Sword of Damocles called great-grandchildren, just hanging there. I am thrilled for him and Jeanette, and I congratulate them both, and I'll just deal with the older thing. It's not their problem.

There is one thing, though, that consistently makes me feel old, and I have to do it, every two weeks, since that's how many containers I have, and I ain't buying any more of them. Every two weeks, I drag out my drug stash, sit down at the island in the kitchen, and count out my pills into those danged pill compartments. Now, that makes me feel old. I suppose that I could just stop filling the prescriptions and not have to deal with it. But, I probably wouldn't get much older, either. Rather than that, I think I'll simply apply a lesson that I've learned from my brother Lonnie's approach to a golf problem that he faced, and I'd recommend this to all of you.

Lonnie had driven his ball past the Out-of-Bounds stakes. We drove up to his ball, and instead of picking it up and dropping it back In-Bounds and taking the required penalty stroke, he lined up to hit it again. I mentioned that it seemed to me that he was Out-of-Bounds. He never flinched, and just before he struck the ball again, he calmly replied, " She's Out-of-Bounds when I say she's Out-of-Bounds". I'll be Old when I say I'm Old.

Have a wonderful day, because it's a wonderful day out there !

Later,

Don Lehr (Michguy)

Bottoms Up !

Bottoms up! Cheers! Here's to ya! Gotcha! Today's post isn't about drinking at all. Since my last post was about snoring and how it can negatively affect your health, I decided to follow up with another health related piece. Snoring, of course occurs at the top end of the Alimentary Canal. Today's gem of rambling ribaldry will involve the other end of the spectrum; the bottom of the Alimentary Canal.

Since the name of this blog is Senior Speak, I'm assuming that most of you readers are in the Over Fifty crowd. That being the case, I'm also assuming that most of you have followed your Doctor's advice, and paid a visit to your friendly Gastroenterologist for that dreaded Colonoscopy. If you haven't, get your courage up, swallow your pride (though it will be purged) and make that appointment. It could save your life, and it isn't nearly as bad as you might think. I mean the Colonoscopy itself isn't as bad as you might think. The night before, however, is quite a different matter.

The night before is one of those experiences that falls into that cliche'd, "...class of it's own". Describing it is simply not to be done amongst polite society. Suffice it to say that after drinking astounding amounts of vile potions, your colon performs a series (that's more than one, Marie. You ain't gonna just sit down once.) of constrictions that would make an Anaconda blush, resulting in a cleansing of almost Biblical proportions. You will sleep well. The rest is a piece of cake. Side Note: My Gastroenterologist's nurse neglected to tell me to stop taking my blood thinners for 5 days before my first Colonoscopy, so I got to do all of this twice within 2 weeks. What a treat!

The Colonoscopy itself is a breeze, thanks to modern pharmacology. They administer a "Happy Cocktail" which creates the most incredible high for a few brief moments. They tell me that you never actually "go under", but you'll have no knowledge of any of the proceedings, thank God. The only post-probing negative, is the purging of an incredible amount of air that, I swear, they pump in there, just for laughs.

My first experience of the probing of my nether regions was not the Colonoscopy, but it's baby brother, the Flexible Sigmoidoscopy, a carryover fom the Spanish Inquisition. This procedure has, deservedly, fallen from favor, it's thunder having been stolen by the Colonoscopy.

My Internist is a wonderful Italian. Every time I go for my yearly physical, he enters the examination room singing a few bars of an Italian aria in a gorgeous Baritone. When the exam is over, he slips off the rubber glove, washes his hands and exits with a "God bless you". What's not to love ?

After one of these visits some years ago, he said, "Let's see. You're 50 years old. I want you to schedule a Flexible Sigmoidoscopy with my Nurse when you leave." He explained that it was a procedure that was something like a Colonoscopy, but with a much shorter scope. Being something of a smart ass, I asked, "Flexible ? Is there such a thing as an Inflexible Sigmioidoscopy ?" He, being an even smarter ass, replied without so much as a blink of an eye, "Yes, but we don't do those anymore." I, of course, asked, "Why not ?" "Because the scope was inflexible, and we had to beat them in with a rubber mallet. The screaming disturbed the other patients. God bless you."

I am a very private person when it pertains to my bodily functions, so the prospect of having to set an appointment for that type of procedure with his female Nurse, was quite disturbing. I decided to lighten the situation with humor. When I booked the appointment, I told the Nurse, quite animatedly, " I've never had one of these before, and I'm so excited that I'm going wear my Argyle socks, and buy a brand new hat." She laughed, bless her heart.

On the appointed day, I wore my Argyles, but the hat thing was just in jest. I entered the exam room, stripped down to my socks and put on the godawful backless gown. My Doctor entered, singing, exchanged a few pleasantries and then told me to roll onto my side. So, there I am, mooning him when he says,"Oh, by the way, we're going to be joined by my Nurse and a Student Nurse. I was sure you wouldn't mind." In they walked, and actually greeted my backside with, "Good morning." I, of course, responded in like. The Doctor began his task, and when the scope was just shy of my shoulder blades, he paused and said, "Hey, nice socks ! Where's your hat ?"

I wouldn't leave him for anything. He's a great Doctor, and he always insists that I book next year's appointment before I leave. I find that a reassuring vote of confidence. At least he thinks that I've got 365 more days.

Colon cancer is no laughing matter, and a Colonoscopy is only a minor inconvenience. Book one.

Have a wonderful day, because it's a wonderful day out there !


Later,

Don Lehr (Michguy)

Welcome to Senior Speak

Good morning, and welcome to Senior Speak! It's a gorgeous September morning here in West Michigan, and I'm hoping it's the same where you are.

This post is the first of many that will celebrate the wonderful lifestyle of us "Over-Fifties" and any younger "wannabes" that want to come along. For some of us, getting here was a struggle, for some others, a breeze. But, since we're here, let's get on with it and wring every bit of joy out of every day that we have!

We're going to be talking about danged near anything that comes to mind. I say "we", since I sincerely welcome your comments and criticisms with the caveat that it is, after all, my site.

I'm a Motorhome nut, and I'm sure we'll talk a bit about travel. We'll talk about health and fitness, great books and music, food and wine, sins of our past and sins planned for the future, and anything you'd like to talk about. But, I do have to set some guidelines: No fabrications, no embellishing of stories, no religion or politics, no sex stuff and no talk about Gin. I reserve all of those rights for me.

I see that the mail just arrived and a fellow told me that he was putting a check in the mail and I know it'll be there, so I'm outta here for now.

Later,

Don Lehr (Michguy)