Ten things I don’t like about growing older:

1. Fragile skin and easy bruising.
2. Moles and stray hairs.
3. Balding and graying.
4. Forgetfulness.
5. Sexual withering and incontinence.
6. Slowing down in general.
7. Inability to sleep in late. Worse yet, apparently I snore more … and louder.
8. A receding gum line.
9. Declining stamina.
10. Lessened agility and equipoise, too. As for balance?

~*~

What’s hitting you? No matter your age.

 

You’ve been seeing our duo, Salty and Pepper. Before that were Boo, especially, and Widgeon.

Now, for some details on the species.

1. Officially, they’re lagomorphs, though we find their chewing habits resemble rodents – you know, beavers, when it comes to wood. You’ve been warned.
2. Existing as an animal of prey, meaning a food source, makes them skittish. Boo, though, came to be a lap rabbit, sitting for hours in her someone special’s lap.
3. In short spurts, they can zip along at up to 45 miles an hour. As ours do when they’re first out of their cage in the morning.
4. In general, they’re silent. They don’t bark or meow or anything like that, though Salty has a whiffling snore while dozing. You’d think she’s in pain, but she’s not.
5. They’re meticulously clean and can be potty trained, like a cat.
6. Their ability to jump straight up, from all four legs, and twist and spin about in the air is called binky.
7. Born covered in fur, they can run from the start.
8. Their teeth and nails never stop growing.
9. They cannot vomit, which requires us to be careful in what we feed them. Even when they seem to eat almost everything we offer them. That, by the way, has been an incentive for more attentive weeding on my part. Those weeds suddenly become bunny treats, and watching those greens be so assiduously devoured is quite amusing.
10. They’re cute and soft, mostly.

 

1. Distracted. Just where did I put that thing-a-ma-jig?
2. Stuffed to the brim.
3. Amazed by so many actions that are normally taken for granted.
4. Grateful for so much in my everyday life, even amid the inevitable irritations.
5. Looking for additional sources of income to make ends meet.
6. Worried about the future of mankind.
7. Less demanding of others than I once was.
8. Resigned to growing limitations.
9. Angry about the injustices of the nutcase Right.
10. Glad I’m not 21 and facing the future.

~*~

Now, to inhale deeply … and hold it.

 

I always wanted to live in a big city, the kind where big things were happening, and even when I was in high school, people were telling me that’s where I should be. But, oh my, my life’s gone in quite another direction!

So here are ten I’ve experienced, all in North America.

1. Boston: For more than three decades, I lived an hour to the north and came to know it well. The fact it’s so pedestrian friendly makes it unique, in my mind. Much of it has a small-town feel, especially when you add in all of the suburbs that retain their original, Colonial-era, village roots. Besides, even I have come to appreciate that Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics, Bruins regional identity.
2. San Francisco: One visit, and it’s still love, though way out of my budget these days. We had a cheap place where we slept in sleeping bags. I now think of it as being somewhat like Boston, in a hip West Coast incarnation.
3. Baltimore: I lived there for three years and know it can be Charm City, with a character all its own. It took me a while to readjust later to Boston.
4. Cincinnati: A great place for classical music. Still is, from everything I see. Other than that, not quite so big as I remember, though Procter & Gamble, Macy’s, and Kroger are all headquartered there. I grew up an hour to the north, where everybody was a Reds’ fan.
5. Chicago: Let’s start with the art museum, with all of its muscular heft, matching the city. Or the two years I worked for the Tribune, out on the road, and came in for conferences at the paper. Yes, I have stories!
6. Seattle: For four years, it was my closest metropolis, back when everybody was worried it was going to go the way of San Francisco and lose its intimate charm. These days, I doubt I would know it all.
7. Cleveland: For three years in my life, this was two hours away in one direction. Despite being the butt of a lot of bad jokes, the city was once the home to some of the nation’s leading industrialists, John D. Rockefeller among them. The art museum is definitely one of the nation’s top five, and admission is free. For genealogists, the Western Reserve Historical Society’s library is a mecca. The town as a whole has made quite a turnaround, though the Browns are another matter.
8. Pittsburgh: And this was two hours away in the other direction. We usually headed for the university district.
9. New York: I lived Upstate for a few years, plus a few more out in the Poconos, and during that time most of my friends were from The City. I’ve even spent the night in all five of the city’s boroughs, often in a sleeping bag, something few of the natives can claim. I know there’s a lot more than Manhattan.
10. Washington, D.C.: Living up the road in Baltimore gave me repeated opportunities to zip down for a few hours, especially since one of my best friends lived there. There are still tons of the big attractions I never quite visited, though. I can tell you about the genealogical files at the National Archive, however, or the greenhouses at the National Cathedral, that sort of thing, and I still admire the subway system.

~*~

I still recall Montreal with wonder, from a trip back in the early ’60s. Someday, I hope, I’ll get back. And there are the repeated tastes of Philadelphia, enough to know I’ve missed much.

~*~

OK, your turn to tout a big city. What’s your favorite? Or one I’ve missed?

I’m talking about a poem or a novel here as a point of reference, but you can add some of your own perspectives, say as a painter or carpenter or gardener or cook.

1. You have nothing more to say.
2. You’re tired of the subject. So you close the cover, in effect.
3. The previous revision was better. So you stop while you’re still ahead or don’t further overcook it.
4. You’ve run out of time, like coming to the end of a vacation. Or something’s more pressing.
5. You’re on deadline and it’s due. (Remember, I worked in newsrooms.)
6. You perform it in public and there’s no squirming or coughing in the audience.
7. It gets published. A literary quarterly is nice but a book’s even better.
8. The critics are kind. Though that can make you question their standards.
9. You arrive at your destination. You know how the story ends, for one thing.
10. The kids grow up and move away. Or maybe you do.