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Consider this quote from Abe Lincoln

"America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves."



Getting older is one of those amazing things that sneaks up on you. Oh sure, one day you’re young and running through the yard laughing your head off as you try to keep pace with the bigger kids, then suddenly before you realize it you’re standing in the yard bent over with your hands on you knees trying to catch you breath from running to keep up with the little ones.

Most of the time, we can look in the mirror and notice the ages creeping upon us. Gray hair bothers most people, but I kind of like the little bit that has snuck into my sideburns and temples. I’ve earned that color and there’s not much use fighting it, so I think of it as a badge I wear and think it adds an air of distinction to my exterior.

Crows feet, laugh lines, the occasional weird mole that pops up in even weirder places, they add a little to each of us. Even the extra weight that I carry around with me slowly but surely became a part of who I am, not overnight mind you, but over the years it jumped onto my body and invited more of its friends to come join the party.

I’ve noticed lately that aging produces some other fun things. I no longer am interested in any weather report on television as my joints and knees and back are much more true indicators of the weather that is to come. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I mind so much, but it seems a shame that all these great advantages of aging well are really not kicking in yet when I can’t order off of the back page of the menu at the Village Inn.

I’ve tried my best to take them all in stride, these changes that I notice now and again. Oh sure, my younger friends tease and cajole me about them, but I just sit back and grin because I know that time is on my side and before they can blink an eye the ravishes of time will sneak up upon them too. Certainly I’ve never been one to get very wound up about things and I’m not easily shaken, but this last week really put a damper on the “hey being in my 40s is awesome” party I’ve been having in my head.

I stood in front of the rack at the bookstore looking at this little placard taped to the top of the revolving rack. I started to read… “if this line is difficult to read you need strength 4.00..” I got all the way through and declared, “See! I can read it just fine…I don’t need glasses.” When I was gently reminded that I needed to stand fourteen inches from the paper then the world started changing and things became a little fuzzier and before you know it, I, the great writer and reader was handing over fifteen dollars for my first pair of reading glasses. Reading glasses! Ughhh!

I’ll admit that so far I’ve just been using them at home, and after the kids ribbed me about getting older I’ve not yet wanted to carry them around with me outside of the house. Of course I’m very excited about being able to read again without headaches or having to have a 100 watt light bulb screwed into the lamp beside me. But this is a no win situation here. It’s not like I’m going to wake up one day and suddenly see clearly again. Yes, I’m growing older…hopefully doing so with a bit of grace, but I’ll be completely honest about one thing. I dread the moment when I have to utter those immortal words… “Hang on let me get my eyes.”

Sigh….see you next week…remember, we’re all in this together.