Best Laid Plans

A few years ago as I mellowed with age,

I thought it would be classy to sport a

wide-brimmed hat and a cane. Oh, I never

fancied myself as a dandy, but certainly

I deserved a touch of sophisticated swag-

ger having reached a venerable age. As

a younger man I never had the Robert

Redford looks to attract the women or to

hold me in the envy of other men. So, I fig-

ured once past sixty-five I could upgrade

my appearance, and refine my stature a

smidgen as a senior. Nothing ostentatious,

mind you, no checkered bow-tie and plaid

jacket which screamed, Hey you, look at

me! No sir, something solid and becoming

of my advancing age, like a wide brimmed

hat `a la Indiana Jones the adventurer, and

perhaps a shinny, brass-handled hardwood

cane, befitting, let’s say, a white-haired col-

lege professor. Well folks, you know

what they say about being careful what you

wish for. I got my hat and left it some place

I can’t remember where. And the cane I had

envisioned as a prop, a mere status symbol

indicating that after many decades of life

survived, I had finally arrived. Only thing is, I

am now hobbling around on two bad hips. And

I sure wasn’t expecting to need that fancy cane

to keep me from falling over, and yelping out in

bloody pain. Damn this arthritic old age!

Nothing grand and sophisticated about it anyway.

Chris Hanch 3-11-19