Tail of the Weak 3.35
Updated: Jan 25
Tail of the Weak is a series of insights and musical memories from the mind of Uncle Dave Griffin, singer/songwriter and founder of the Annual Gram Parsons Guitar Pull and Tribute Festival, from Waycross, Georgia.
Birthdays are like old underwear—they keep creepin' up on you.
When you've had 65 trips around the sun, that statement is fairly right on. The older I get, though it seems instead of creepin', the birthdays are haulin' ass—to stay with the underwear analogy.
I'm not sad or upset. I started getting AARP membership offers about fifteen years ago, promising me untold savings in everything from insurance to igloos, if I wanted to stay in one for a week. I get my ten percent discount at most fast food restaurants—or at the least, a senior Coke from McDonald's.
Still, there are decisions I have to make. I thought maybe by now it would be easy. My Medicare card came in the mail three months ago; and, along with it came more choices. I found myself in and out of websites, reading up on what my best options would be. Part A is free. Part B is not. Part D for prescriptions is definitely not. There's a bunch of other parts named after alphabet letters; but, I get 'em confused. Part B or not Part B—that is the question.
I'm still in relatively good health—if you don't count my left hip area somewhere around the Greater Trochanter and the Iliofemoral Ligament, and the fact I don't dance as good as I used to. Sexually, I might not be as good as I once was; but, I'm as good once as I always was—and, I was using that one long before Koby Teeth wrote it down in a song.
Speaking of lower extremities, my ol' feet don't get along as good as they used to. God forbid I bang it up against the metal caster on my computer chair. It'll take two months for me to heal and get on with things. Still, I'm not sad or upset.
I'm not chained to the medicine cabinet. I have a few over-the-counter bottles sitting in front of me at the computer. L-Lysine for tissue health—mainly for a rare uprising of the herpes simplex virus—easy now, I'm just talkin' about a fever blister. The Dollar General brand of Mucinex and Benadryl for allergy season—which seems like all year long livin' in south Georgia.
Vitamin B12 because my foot went numb five years ago after walking around the Gram Parsons Guitar Pull in little Mexican cowboy boots all weekend. Turmeric Curcumin and Omega-3 Krill Oil capsules to ease the angry hip joint and a bottle of stool softener to make this chair easier to sit in.
My wife and I, in a moment of delirious inspiration, joined up at Planet Fitness back in April. I went about five times until my hip started hurting. She goes mainly for the tanning beds and the hydro massage chairs. It's just $23.60 apiece per month goin' out the door. I'm not sad or upset.
I'm retired now going on three years; and, I stay up as late I please—writing blogs about music, hula hoops, family traditions, Andy Griffith, transistor radios, baseball, snow in south Georgia, and birthdays—like this one at 2:30 in the morning. I travel quite a bit—if only to play music in a bar, restaurant, music hall, or at a houseboat music festival set on a beautiful Kentucky lake surrounded by beautiful people.
I get to write songs with pretty and talented young girls in vintage Airstream trailers. I have four grandkids and enough love left to keep them and me all happy. My house is paid for and my wife hasn't left me. There aren't a whole lot of reasons to be sad or upset—least not getting' older.
Really, the only things that make me sad or upset me the most these days are people that don't treat you right and listening to Washington, D.C. politicians—now, talk about people that don't treat you right. I agree with what Mark Twain had to say about that, “Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason.”
Which brings me back around to the opening analogy about underwear. Since I've been retired, I spend a lot of time sitting around the house in my underwear. Most of them don't creep up on me like birthdays seem to; but, just to be safe, kids, if you're thinkin' about a special gift, I wear a size 32 in a boxer brief. I won't be sad or upset. Oh, and colors aren't important.
21st Annual Gram Parsons Guitar Pull and Tribute Festival
Advance 3-Day Passes:
Memories straight from the mind of Uncle Dave Griffin