So,
this Friday my son turns fifty. He’s young and fit for his age.
When
I turned fifty, I would have said the same for myself. Today
I
am sixty-nine, only nineteen years past that golden landmark age.
Inevitably,
one reaches a point when the deterioration process excels.
For
me the downhill decline began notably at age sixty. My son’s
Age
this Friday actually says a lot more about me and my precarious
Condition.
Understand that the aging process is not predicated exclu-
Sively
on genetic predisposition. Other biological factors apply.
It’s
a fact that my smoking and former alcohol abuse have erased
Many
years of good health which I may have enjoyed otherwise.
Fortunately
for my son, marching in his fifth-decade parade, he has
Neither
subscribed to nor applied my insidiously ruinous behaviors.
Be
that as it may, and should my humble advise be asked at this
Momentous
time in both our lives, I would have to say to my son
Of
fifty-years—Enjoy what you have now, but pay attention, pay
Close
attention to that metabolic time clock. Behave accordingly.
You
may have but nineteen more years to learn. Then, who can say?
With
pesky minor maladies (and a couple of arthritic knees), you may
Indeed
go on to hobble across the landscape of an entire century.
Chris
Hanch 12-22-16
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