Dear Maturing Friends,
One day, not so many years back, I read that guys like me were "aging young men." I laughed and went on with the day's affairs; however, I do recall that I was drawn a little more often to the looking glass, semiconsciously mouthing those immortal words:
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's...."
Whether the water is over the dam or it is under the bridge, I cannot say for certain. I'm no hydrologist. But two things are for darn sure: I no longer can walk on water and I have a real problem passing it. I still can move, O yes, I can. But, like a dancer past his prime, I am now a choreographer. I plan many of my moves before taking that leap [or baby step].
Apart from my little rant above, I am cheerful and still get around quite admirably. I do find, though, that I am really quite at home "pottering" about, when I'm feeling a tad Wodehousey, or "puttering" about, when I'm feeling a little more down-to-earth. It suits this former paint-the-town-red gangbuster very well.
Maybe I am aging gracefully after all ...
AND YOU?
CoCo Codger