They held my birthday parade today.
I'm sure that they didn't know it,
but I take what I can get these days.
There were floats, Cub troops and Camp Fire Girls
and lots of bands with prancing drum majors.
There were dogs and horses and fraternities
and a pooper scooper to keep it clean.
On this birthday I needed a parade
and some public recognition of
my calendar achievement.
They should have asked me to give a speech.
I had one prepared and polished.
In my speech I would not have complained
about not being able to hear well as I once did.
Nor that even with glasses I can't read
the stock market reports to find how
much money I am making.
And I would never complain about the
little aches and pains and
a thumb that only works in the afternoon.
All this and more I expected of aging.
Shortness of breath, loss of hair
and the greying of what is left
are the medals of survival.
And forgetting is just the housecleaning
of a too busy brain.
No, I know the rules and would not complain.
What I would say in my speech to that
parade crowd would be that I miss
the sounds and sights of youth.
For never again can I experience
my Flexible Flyer hitting a patch of ice
and singing with glee.
Nor will I easily jump the fence in front of the old house
nor vault the water fountain.
The basketball now leaves my hands
with the uncertainty
of a kite in a spring wind
and I never leave the floor.
Oh, how I would like to sail again
to that waiting, hungry rim.
And how I would like to have a glance at
a beautiful girl be connected to hormones
instead of dim memory banks.
Out there in that crowd there will be
no one older than I,
so they need to get my message.
The new isn't bad at all,
but the old days are sure missed
on a sunny day.
It was perfect growing weather for the young.
They enjoyed the parade for sure.
And probably thought nothing
of the pleasure of running like playful pups.
Or eating three hot dogs and drinking several cokes.
And someday the parade will be for them.