As I Age, Pt. I
January 2000
If I live to the end of the week, I will turn 34 years old. How old that really is depends upon which part of my body you ask. I don't feel older but I have noticed that when I come out of the grocery store it takes me longer than it once did to locate my car.
There is still a childlike curiosity (The one that inspires me to ask my brother the ambulance driver how fast he's allowed to drive the thing. He says he can legally go 10 mph over the speed limit but if he has a patient in cardiac arrest he'll go faster.) that 34 years of conformity training haven't beaten out of me. I'm proud of that.
I'm sure there's some leftover childlike immaturity too, which I don't brag about.
My parents must know this. They sent me a package (Yes, I opened it. When you reach my advanced age you don't know how much time you have to wait for anything.) containing two boxes of Hostess cupcakes and a box of Tasty Kakes cupcakes.
The package may have been tossed around a bit but I think I can salvage its contents.
I need to tell you that mention of my advancement toward middle age, which can be measured as much by the upward expansion of my forehead as it can by any calendar, is not a solicitation for birthday greetings. You are more than generous enough just to wade through my babblings. I understand if you get weary reading them. So I thank you.
E-mail John
©1997-2000 John McQuiston