It's the Pitts by Lee Pitts 

 

I’m starting to feel older than dirt. And I swear there is soil in our garden that I knew when it was rocks. Oh, how a few decades can change your outlook on life!

At age 25: “Sure, I can ride that horse. Haven’t you got anything tougher than that?”

At age 70: “I’d sure like to take a swing at that old reprobate, but I have two knees made from titanium, an artificial hip and I’ve somehow developed a fear of flying.”

At 25: “I wish those old fogies in front of me would get out of my way; they’re only going 75. Can’t they see I’m in a hurry?”

At 70: “I wish those cars backed up behind me would get off my tail and quit honking; can’t they see I’m going as fast as I can?” (To which my wife replies, “Honey, you’re doing 35 in a 65.”)

At 25, at the Hatch, N.M., Chili Festival you tell a vendor, “Give me the hottest peppers you got. There’s never been a pepper made that was too hot for me.” At 70: “Honey, what do you say we skip the Chili Festival this year and go to the Oatmeal Extravaganza instead?”

At 25, in looking for a mate you want someone who is smart, beautiful, witty, fun and trustworthy. At 70, in looking for your third spouse, you just want someone with a valid driver’s license.

At 25, for vacation this year you hope to go on a bow-and-arrow wildebeest hunt while on an African safari. At 70, for vacation you hope to snare a swag bag full of free goodies at the Safari Convention.

At 25, for Christmas all you want is a new head horse; at 70, for Christmas all you want is a hydraulic calf branding table.

At 25: At a Las Vegas craps table you bet $100 on the pass line, take the odds and place another $100 on all the hard ways.

At 70: “What do you mean you don’t have any penny slots? And where can I find a $5 all-you can-eat buffet that is gluten-free, low-fat, easy to chew and isn’t overly salted?”

At 25: “It’s only a margin call, honey. And there’s a chance the bank might let us rent the house back from them after they foreclose on it.”

At 70: “Now, your certificate deposit that pays 1/10 of a percent; it is  fully insured by FDIC, right?”

At age 25: “Hey good lookin’, what you got cookin’?” At 70: “Honey, I’d sure like to stay up and watch ‘Jeopardy!’ with you but it’s not over until 7:30.”

At 25, you swear you’d never live in a rest home, convalescent hospital or prison for old geezers and you hope one day to have a second home at Bachelor, Squaw Valley or Aspen. At 70, you hope to someday be able to afford a room at an assisted care living facility.

At 25, you dream about hot women or studly men and a few of your favorite things are fast cars, fancy threads, rappers and rockers. At 70, you like rockers, too – the kind you sit in. You dream about prunes and early-bird dinners and a few of your favorite things are leak-proof diapers, Geritol, sleeping pills, BENGAY and Preparation H.

At 25, you love everything new and will wait in line for 12 hours for the newest iPhone. At 70, you love everything old – such as old wine, old books, old dogs, old friends and your old phone.

At 25: You call your spouse terms of endearment like “Honey Bunch,” “Darling,” “Babe,” “Pumpkin” and “Sweetie,” with thoughts of romance, love and lust in your heart.

At 70: You call your significant other these things, too … but it’s only because you can’t remember his or her name.

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World.