That's My Story

 

I think about times past when the life

expectancy of people was in the forties

of fifties. Oh, there were always a few

who managed to live considerably

longer, but mostly they were far and

few between.

Mark Twain for instance lived to be

75-years old when he died in 1910,

a respectable old age in those days.

The reason the length of life came to

mind is that the longer we humans

live, chances are that we’ll likely be-

come infirm with myriad physical

and mental maladies. Take me for

instance at age 73, I happen to be

afflicted with severe arthritis in my

hips, knees and shoulders. I had no

noticeable symptoms until I was

in my mid sixties.

Looking back at my working life’s ac-

tivities I can see where my problems

began. Much of my life I had jobs

which placed me placidly at a desk

or a drawing board. I was a pencil

pusher and artist.

Oh, I had done some physical work

around the house and yard, construc-

tion and maintenance work primarily.

And from time to time I would help

friends and family move heavy and

awkward furniture and belongings,

you know. I worked on my cars and

such, typical everyday upkeep stuff.

But in my mid-fifties I had to make

one of my many job changes. I went

to work for a local Kinko’s, the copy

folks. I was hired as a pick up and

delivery courier. I loved that job

because being out of the store

driving around town every day,

I had a lot of autonomy. In addi-

tion to my business activities, I

could stop and grab a coffee and

bagel whenever I pleased. I could

drop by my bank and take care of

financial transactions and such.

Not to abuse my job responsibil-

ities, I always got my work done in

a professional and timely manner.

What finally caught up to me years

later was lifting and carting around

80, 100 lb boxes of paper. Not only

schlepping them from customer to

customer, but unloading 10 or 15

pallets of paper products for the

store each week.

I did that back-breaking, knee-bending,

shoulder stressing work for nine years.

And ladies and gentlemen, I was a light-

weight, no Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Needless to say in my later years I am

still paying the price. Now see, had I died

in my fifties, I would not have to endure

all that pain which plagues me today.

Had I not stopped for coffee and bagels

everyday on company time, Karma for

me would have been far more under-

standing, gracious and kind.

At age 73, it’s too late to turn back.

And now, I am left with this untenable

condition, floundering in the muck of

my own reality, you see. Alas, the Piper

must be paid.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 8-17-2020