A friend of mine – same age more or less – recently had a misadventure and ran into an object face first that ended up requiring about 30 stitches to fix.
I was sympathetic, since I’m still emerging from a months-long ordeal after breaking my leg.
He surprised me Monday morning by saying that he’d rather live with his facial scarring than my walking problems.
He noted that neither of us need bother with the looks category.
When you’re in your mid-70s as we are, that ship has (mostly) sailed.
But he can walk better than I.
I’m still working on several areas in physical therapy, most of which deal with how well I walk.
I think I’m getting better with my gait.
I’m focusing on heel-to-toes when I walk and apparently I’m delusional when I think I’ve the old walking magic.
I don’t know why I said magic, there was never any magic in my step.
I believe the words that escape from my wife’s lips are: “you’re still waddling.”
Truly, it’s hard to imagine anything more deflating than that.
Yet when I go to physical therapy, the therapists continually get on me for not picking up my feet when I walk.
They have me do a pronounced high-step marching step.
OK, I now have to imagine going back more than 50 years and becoming an A&M cadet again marching to chow at Duncan Dining Hall.
I know my high school friend doesn’t know how deficient my step is these days.
All he knows is that he’d rather live with the facial injuries than recover from the broken leg.
One of life’s headaches nowadays is walking from the street to the courthouse.
I’ve had a few people complain that they no longer can park in the courthouse basement parking areas.
That’s not something that I consider, although that’s where I once parked there for commissioners court meetings.
I always thought the parking spaces were too narrow for my truck and I began parking in the street.
The only time I even think of those subterranean spaces is when I climb the steps.
But once I’m inside I forget about it anyway.
I’m left to ponder what I really want for father’s day.
At my age, I own many kinds of Aggie wardrobe items, but I’m good with another maroon article.
And, just saying, I’ll take the leg ordeal over having my face smashed.
Convenient viewpoint that.
