old friends, sat on a park bench like bookends

I have been thinking about being old lately

    When we drive to the airport on 294 north, we pass a tall building...must be 25 stories.  It is in the middle of what looks to be an industrial zone.  The tollway is in front, a rail yard behind it.  A road next to it and a huge parking lot, which never has a lot of cars.
  It's a retirement home.  It scares the crap out of me, because I don't want to go there!!
     I want to go to a place like in Rochelle.....but I can't remember the name of it.  San Gabriel!  That's it.
     I want to go to a place that still allows the residents a little dignity.
     After all, nothing says dignity like having pudding drip down your chin as you gum your dessert.
     I know, 70 is the new 60.  I want to say that is pure bull shit.  70 is 70.  Your body starts to betray you, one shoulder at a time, and that's in the 60s.  I can't believe how many people are in PT for shoulder issues.  I would ask for a show of hands, but many of us can't.  That's why meetings with a lot of seniors rely on voice votes.
     Hearing goes.  Soon you find yourself saying, "What?" a lot but refusing to admit you can't hear well.  That also explains some decisions made by groups of seniors with bad hearing.  Which is better than a group of Scandanavians with bad herring.  But I digress.
     You repeat things.  Stories, memories, things you've already said.
     You forget where you put things.  Like car keys, or letters from the government that tell you you owe $13,000 in back taxes and they will confiscate your home and remaining teeth with gold fillings unless you pay now.
     You repeat things.  Stories, memories, things you've already said.
     I put leftovers in the pantry last night.  Actually, I went in the pantry with the leftovers and realized I was in the wrong place.
     But what if I had to go to the bathroom??
     Small tasks become harder, which is about the only thing in your life that gets hard.
     You repeat things.  Stories, memories, things you've already said.
     Technology overwhelms.
     You begin to wear saggy baggies....not intentionally, but because you forgot your belt or put on somebody else's pants.
     And I wonder.  What will happen to the people I care for?  Will I still be able to see them?  Hear them?  Will they be able to see me, feel me, touch me.....wait, I am channeling the Who.
     I have come to realize a lot of things.  I'll never be president.  I won't even be a congressman or state rep.  I'll never be a famous tv star, hobnobbing with Jennifer Anison or Tom Hanks.
     And all that is ok, as long as I don't end up with a view of the tollway and railroad tracks, false teeth and no one to talk to.
     That would be sad.