Old geezers crack me up.
They are wise, yet contrary. They are blunt, but they still manage to amuse us nonetheless. Old geezers have an independent streak that’s the envy of the whole neighborhood and a memory that recalls every bit of gossip since the Yankees came a’knocking in the not so Civil War. Maybe that’s why I love them so. They’re living time capsules of days long forgotten. Speaking about memories, I heard a good one recently from an old geezer that’s too good not to share. He put it like this:
“As I’m getting older I find my memory is actually getting better. It’s gotten so good that I’m remembering stuff that never happened!”
Coincidence or not, Mark Twain, who in my book is the ultimate curmudgeon and one of the funniest guys of all time, had a similar observation;
“It isn’t so astonishing, the number of things that I can remember, as the number of things I can remember that aren’t so.”
If that’s old age then I haven’t a worry in the world. My best years and my best stories are surely ahead of me. I can hardly wait to learn what kind of wild and kooky adventures I had in my carefree and joyous youth.
