Jackie Wells-Fauth
No, I’m not giving up writing, so I hope you really didn’t have your hopes up. The title is appropriate; the subject, however, is not my writing!
It so happens I was listening to a monologue from Bill Engvall. I love his straight from the hip humor and occasionally, I get the feeling that he and I might think alike (no insult intended, Bill). He was talking about the things that he had decided to give up because he is older (and wiser, perhaps) than he was before. This idea struck me as a good one!
Now, this might be as far as we go in our similarities, because he was talking about not watching his cholesterol, and eating Lucky Charms to give him life meaning. The things I would like to give up because of my advancing age are somewhat different.
I would like to give up scales. Surely at my advanced age, I am shrinking, not growing, right? Why must I then have the every morning downer of stepping on the scale and having it blatantly lie to me about how much I weigh? I have frequent dreams about pigging out on doughnuts—lots of filling and icing—and using the scale for a plate. Take that, you heartless numbers bag!
I would like to give up medical checkups. Yes, yes, I know. These are conducted for our own good and they keep us strong and healthy into our distant years. Blah, blah blah! There is nothing more upsetting than taking off one’s clothes so that the body can be poked, prodded and otherwise invaded and then be told, “Well, it doesn’t look good, but we’ll study it for a month or two and if you’re still around, we’ll let you know!” Just do the test and can I have a drumroll please? Give me the answer now!
I would like to give up phones. Not just the beasts hanging on the wall, though. Those phones have been reduced to the status of “If I Answer This Call, It Will Be A Hoax, Con, Sales pitch, etc.” No one, who still has one of those, ever answers it on the first ring and generally regrets answering it at all. Just leave me a message—if I feel so inclined, I’ll call you back, but you probably shouldn’t wait by the phone.
I would also like to give up those little handheld monsters that can do everything from make phone calls to paying bills to making out your will and driving your car. Tell the truth, am I the only one it makes nervous to know that I can wave that thing (provided I don’t have my nose stuck in it) over any electrical appliance and it conveys my hard-earned cash to someone else? There is something about handing over that foldable bill with the presidents’ pictures on it that gives me more security than a small machine that can not only make me trip over my feet but take a “selfie” of it!
I would like to give up wheat bread. Certainly, at my age, I should be able to choose the type of bread I want. I hate having a waitress ask me what kind of toast I want, and having to whisper, “white,” so the people around me don’t hear and judge me. Wheat bread is not as moist as white bread and in addition, it doesn’t make as pretty a piece of French toast or toad-in-the-hole! Is there no way to get the benefits of wheat bread without having to actually EAT wheat bread? Is every scientist working on things like cancer cures, when they could be helping me with this? (Come to think of it, keep working on the cancer cure.)
I would like to give up AI. I don’t want to take an automatic survey, I don’t want to press fourteen buttons to get the opportunity to speak to a person, and I don’t want AI judging whether my problem is important enough for their systems. I don’t need to see pictures of dead people reanimated and I don’t wish to watch fifteen minutes in a movie, that are all an AI generated car chase or epic battle. Let’s do those things the old-fashioned way, by wrecking cars and injuring extras! I realize this is a dangerous thing to put down on paper, because some AI configuration is going to read it, find my house and arrange an “artificially simulated” accident for me, but I’ll take the chance!
The final thing I would like to give up is arthritis. Who would have thought just a few years ago, that my fingers would ache by the time I was finished spewing my weekly nonsense? Who would have thought getting up from a chair would require five minutes of repositioning? The meanest joke God can pull on an old person is to hit them right in the joints with some finely honed arthritis. I really want to give that up!
I could probably think of a hundred other things I’d like to give up with my advancing age and so could you. But, like Bill, my time on this subject is limited and so now, I would like to give up this rant! Have a good week.
