Tuesday, June 06, 2006

THE AGE OF GIVING UP

As I advance in age I've reached a stage in life when I am become enraged at me and confess I am no longer as free as I used to be. I can't swim and I can't dance and, as for romance, I'm limited to coos and kisses. And ever since I lost my wife I've learned what a lonely life this is.

Among the things I had to give up, the one hardest to decide was that I could no longer drive. I've had a few accidents, mostly scratches, bumps and dents. I've also had close calls, rammed into walls and trees, suffered a seizure that scared the hell out of me. I sat in my car stunned. I knew my driving years were done.

As I reach eighty-three I see folks older than me still behind the wheel and it makes me feel sad. I realize if I crash my car totally with another guy he and I may die. This is why I can no longer drive if I want to stay alive.


Believe me, the admission I had to give up that ignition key, tore the heart out of me. What if I have to go somewhere and there's no one to take me there? If I find a volunteer up in years who can hardly see and drives absentmindedly, and hasn't come to grips with even short trips to a store or little more, and if he or she drives recklessly and irresponsibly, they may kill themselves, they may kill me, they may kill a young and growing family. This is the fear I feel and why I no longer get behind the wheel.

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