Occupation: Wimp

Steave's hands after fixing the car.

I just got back from visiting my 88 year old father and my 78 year old stepmother. My stepmother is in the hospital recovering from lung cancer surgery. My father is legally blind, uses a walker and wears hearing aids in both ears. He's living in their house, toughing it out on his own until my stepmother can return or until they can move into an assisted living facility together.

Our 6 1/2 hour return trip took 10 hours because we lost a belt and Steave had to replace it at the truck stop in 102 degree heat. He's the man!

I told you all that because I don't know about you, but trips set me to thinking. Upon my return, I have come to these 3 conclusions:

1. Growing old is not for the weak, cowardly or frail of mind.

2. I would never make it as a pioneer. I would get that cough or fever and die about 50 miles or less from where I started.

3. I can get tired of eating barbecue.

Here's how I came to those conclusions:

1. I watched my Dad take on a flight of stairs with as much courage and determination as it would take for an explorer to tackle Mt. Everest. I watched my stepmother, like Andre the Giant, mentally wrestle with the knowledge that she can't go home. And if you know me, you know how much I love my home, so that idea is practically unbearable to me. A line from John Mayer's song, "Stop this Train" totally sums up my frame of mind as of late: "So scared of growing older, I'm only good at being young." What really stinks to me is that I was under some crazy Nordic delusion that as you got older and grew in knowledge and experience that one would conqueor insecurity and fear, colonize, order and control ones life and in later years just be able to sail into the setting sun like a victorious Viking ablaze on his pyre. Boy was I wrong! I'm not sure I'm going to be any good at this getting old thing. I'm reminded of Shakespeare: "sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything." The grand adventures and challenges of growing old are the very same as when we were infants: eating, walking, talking and finding joy in small things. I'm not sure I'm going to grow old gracefully. I am a wimp.

2. Our car broke down on our return trip. It wasn't a surprise nor was it unusual. But as I sat there on the curb of the truck stop in 102 degree heat, drinking my water, watching Steave sweat all the fluids out of his body as he crawled in and under the car, I realized I would never make it as a pioneer. I imagined us heading out from Georgia in our covered wagon, 8 kids, Junior pulling the cow, the little ones fighting over the beef jerky and hard tack that I spent months to make, all wearing clothes that I had to make, wondering how long the water would last and hoping we'd come to a river soon when the wagon wheel broke! "No phone, no lights, no motorcar, not a single luxury." That's it!! I would contract that cough that kills everybody in the movies. I don't know how you get it, but I would. I'd die right there. Steave would have to bury me and take the kids on and find himself a more stouter wife than me. I am a modern day, convenience junkie wimp.

3. I didn't think it was possible but I got tired of eating barbecue! I set out on my trip with 3 restaurants in mind: Carolina Barbecue, Lexington Barbecue and Short Sugars. I only got to 2 of them. The 2 were good, but I just couldn't eat any more. I am a barbecue wimp.