Recently, I suddenly realized I was old. I’m sure I already knew it, somewhere in the back of my mind. It’s just that I came to terms with it all at once.
I don’t like the way I look because I look older than I feel. I don’t need people including me in their selfies to remind me of it. Unfortunately, most of my nieces and nephews want to include me in their selfies, regardless of what I need or want.
Some of my relatives are already calling me a grumpy old man, here at my home in the Philippines. I prefer “curmudgeon” but I suppose I’m not quite cantankerous enough to qualify for that description.
One of the things I truly enjoy is making my relatives think I’m angry when I’m not (and when I’m joking and they think I’m not).
When I start talking about myself in the third person, it’s a cause for concern. Well, it is for other people. As I always say, I don’t like being interrupted when I’m talking to myself. I have to do that sometimes because sometimes I need an expert opinion. Anyway…
Some people kicked me out of my outdoor man-cave yesterday. (It was too nice of a day to spend it in my indoor man-cave, the master bedroom.) The neighborhood gamblers (including my wife, Josie) wanted to use that space under the carport where I usually hang out when I hang out outside the house.
Luckily, being a nice day and having my back yard almost completely finished, I was able to chill out under the trees.
If you take a look at the picture I chose to let you see, you’ll see the old man in a state of being annoyed. One of my nephews, Michael, decided to include me in a selfie against my wishes. I waved him off (wagging my middle finger at him) countless times and I guess he managed to sneak this one in when I didn’t. I downloaded it from his timeline on Facebook.
The person you don’t see in the picture is another relative, a bilas known as Ramil. He was sitting behind Michael, who’s 25 years younger than me. Ramil, however, is only five or six years younger than me. Ramil and I were listening to music on my laptop before Michael showed up. None of that modern nonsense either.
The drink you see belonged to Michael. It was a rum and coke, like the one you don’t see of mine. Mine was on the other side of the table and yes, it’s my rum and coke he was drinking.
I guess I’m really old. Well, at least at it concerns the younger generations in the United States. I don’t understand the entitlement mentality a lot of them have. They don’t seem to want to work for their future retirements – they want handouts. (I don’t have that problem with the Filipinos here. They don’t get welfare, food stamps or any of that nonsense.)
I worked for 30 years before I retired from the work force (20 years of that military). The military part was continuous, the civilian part not so much. I still managed to get out of the rat race by 45. I get a military pension every month. Trust me, I earned it. Not only that, but it was part of the guarantee when I enlisted at the age of 17. It isn’t a handout.
Josie and I had some stressful financial issues when we first married, but I never sought out any handouts to supplement my income. We made do with what I earned until the kids were old enough to where she could add to my income. As a result, she worked for more than 20 years herself. She and I both get to draw social security pensions within a year of each other.
I planned for my retirement when I wasn’t old. I may have been young at the time, but I wasn’t stupid. Not like the young, stupid Americans of today.