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Body
of Steel
Saturday was a beautiful day here in Southern California. Mid-70s, crystal blue sky and the Marine Memorial Golf Course was sending out it’s siren call, tempting me to come and stroll the verdant links, seducing me with the possibilities of making great, nay, Herculean golf shots that would rival Tiger. I couldn’t resist! So after attending a mid-day meeting, I slipped over to the course. The golf gods again made a mockery of me. Why do I do this to myself? That’s another issue, for another article. After playing only nine holes (does that tell you something?) I decided I needed a haircut. So, I drove to the Base Exchange area (read: shopping mall) and entered the barbershop. After a few minutes, a chair was empty so I sat down. The barber cutting my hair was probably in his late fifties or so. I was dressed in my golfing togs, not my uniform. So he said to me, “You’re not still on active duty are you?” Well, I started to chuckle. What else could I do? With the gray hair and lines in my face, I know I look like I should be retired from the military. And at age fifty-four, many military folks have been retired for a long time. But here I am. I came to work bleeding this morning because I nicked myself while shaving. It’s not a big deal, except I was bleeding from the top of my ear. I have “old man ears.” Hair grows on the top! And how embarrassing is that? Now, back home on the streets of Ripon, I’ve had folks come up to me, look me over, and say, “Is our military in that much trouble?” The implication being that if they have to recall a guy my age, we must have serious problems. What would you say to that? I suppose I could try to do something about all this. Perhaps having laser surgery on my eyes would be a start. I can’t read anything up close without having to take my glasses off, and I can’t see anything that’s more than fifty yards away. You try figuring out the black, metal rank device on the collar of a camouflaged uniform worn by an enlisted Marine walking toward you who is rendering a hand salute and offering a verbal greeting. The nametape, rank device and even the face are fuzzy. Just think! I could be rid of wearing bi-focaled BCGs (Birth Control Glasses) [see Bits and Bobs, Feb 5]. Glory! Then I could have Navy Dental remove all my teeth and give me full dentures. I’ve noticed the stained appearance on my once pearly-whites. Not to mention innumerable fillings, cracks and chips. I wouldn’t have to avoid cold liquids sloshing to the left side of my mouth and sending my brain into convulsive spasms. My ears don’t work as well as they once did. I blame it on my Marine days when I was working on jet aircraft. The constant ringing in my ears is not my cell phone! I could have a tummy-tuck to get rid of the bulge that has mysteriously appeared in recent years. No amount of sit-ups and weight lifting seem to reduce this unwelcome protuberance. Diet? You’ve got to be kidding! And a face-lift might help. Then there’s the gray hair. But no Grecian Formula for me! I earned every one of those bad boys, and they stay as is! Alas, I remember how boring it was as a young man to listen to old people complaining of their aches and pains. But I’m not old yet. I’m fine! Really, I am. Next year at this time my sister and I will join our brother and mother for dinner and all of us will be ordering from the Seniors' Menu! God Bless America! |
