As each year passes, we are constantly reminded that we are getting older. I have to hope that not everyone ages the same way. Some of you will not be able to relate to anything that you are about to read. To you, I say, kudos! And then, I am sure, there will be some of you that will not be able to relate to what you are about to read because you are too young to have any idea whatsoever about what I am talking about. To you, I say, just give it time. Just give it time. And to the rest of you who will totally identify with what you are about to read, I say, I am sorry. It isn’t my fault, but I am still sorry. (And for those of you who don’t care…I say, oh wait, I can’t say that…)
It creeps up on you. One day you are the young mother in the park with natural highlights, and the next day, you are looking in the mirror wondering when your hair began to sparkle. And that adorable child that was with you in the park is looking down at your head saying, “Oh man, mom, you are soo gray.” Thank you adorable child; it’s a shame I didn’t leave you in the park.
One day, you are having lively conversations on the phone with your friends, and before you know it, every other word out of your mouth is “what? I can’t hear you, could you please say that again?” Now some of your friends can’t hear that well either so they are accommodating. Not your children. They start speaking so softly just to infuriate you and the gentle question of “what?” turns into a shouting match that can be heard across state lines. Again, why did I take him home from the park?
One day, you are able to bend down and pick up all of your kid’s toys without a sound or a worry in the world. Now, every time you bend down a strange sound comes out of your mouth; something between an “oy vey” and a groan. Now this could also be because your skirt is too tight, but we are sticking with the “what happens when you get old” theme not the “what happens when you get too fat to pick up a ping pong ball” theme. (Makes me feel better.) Also, now that I am older, if I don’t bend down a certain way, I hear a certain sound and then I know I will be certainly needing my heating pad and lying very still in bed for some time. And there will be no sign of any boy I took to the park around to help me unless I ring the cowbell that’s next to my bed for an infuriating length of time.
The list can go on and on, but I am now going to discuss the Rockettes. The Rockettes are the amazingly talented dancers that perform at the legendary Radio City Music Hall. They are famous for their long legs and their high kicks. They all dance in a line and they are so fun to watch. (Even more fun if one of them messes up, but that is for another time.) When I was a little girl, my parents would take my siblings and me to Radio City to see whatever seasonal show was playing at the time. I would watch these dancers, wide eyed and mesmerized, and I would think, “wow, I hope I can dance like that when I am their age.” I must have thought they were in their forties. Let us fast forward to a few weeks ago when I went to see the Spring Spectacular with my parents. I am, again, wide eyed and mesmerized, but come to the chilling realization that these Rockettes are about 20 and I am really, really old (and am never going to dance like them). Oh, and that I remember the chairs being a lot more comfortable and a lot easier to get out of. Good times.
The last topic in this series of “You know you are getting old when…” is baseball. No, I am not going to start talking about major league baseball because I do not want to jinx my team (though by the time this article goes to press they probably would have started playing like themselves again, and that is ok). I am talking about TBO. The Teaneck Baseball Organization. For decades, young boys and girls have played Little League. We start with instructional, which can be compared to having a tooth pulled out through your nose and we work our way up to when the kids actually know how to play the game. All of my boys played baseball. My youngest stopped playing a few years before his career was actually over because his team won the championship and he looked at us, his parents, and said “That’s it, I’m done!” Smart kid…take the trophy and run. But where does the aging come into this topic? Am I getting older by the minute and I forgot what I was writing about? Thank God, not yet. When my boys would play, I would walk around the track so I wouldn’t yell at the coaches. I could still see what was going on during the game, but it was best if I was far away. When I walk around the fields now, I can’t see anything. I can’t tell if it’s a boys game or a girls game. I can’t see who is waving to me or calling my name from the bleachers. I am not even sure why I bother wearing my glasses…that is how sad that situation is. When did this happen? Yup, just creeps up on you. You turn around and those little boys from the park are looking down at you instead of looking up…and that’s ok.
Banji Ganchrow does not need bifocals. There is nothing wrong with lifting up your glasses to read the small print.
By Banji Latkin-Ganchrow
