Road Apples
July 20, 2009

Birthday thoughts

By Tim Sanders

Last week I celebrated my 62nd birthday. And I use “celebrated” in the sense that one might say he was celebrating the discovery of yet another colon polyp. Yes, it’s reassuring to know you still have a colon, but you’re in no hurry to completely redecorate the thing. Once you’ve reached a certain age, birthdays are memorable only because they stand as reminders that you’re not dead yet. That is the silver lining in the dark cloud of aging.

But I know I shouldn’t complain. It was a dandy birthday party, and Marilyn invited some people I didn’t even know to play games like “Pin the Diaper on the Codger,” “Hide the Catheter,” and “Connect the Liver Spots.” One of them, the one in the white lab coat, took a lot of notes. Marilyn got me a really top quality hearing aid from Radio Shack, and my son David gave me an excellent walker, with casters, fender skirts, and red hot flame decals on the aluminum tubing. The walker is exceptionally fast on a smooth straightaway, even if it does need some brake work.

When I was much younger, I assumed that by age 62 I’d be a very wise old man. My dad was a very wise old man by the time he was 20, but that is because he wasn’t raised with television like I was, and as a child had time to ponder life’s deep, meaningful, philosophical questions. I only pondered things like why Captain Kangaroo never really hopped, or why Ricky Ricardo didn’t just sneak out of that New York apartment and Babaloo his way back to Cuba while Lucy was busy whining and ’splaining at a pitch loud enough to shatter all the windows in the Empire State Building.

But I still figured that I’d have amassed a lot of valuable wisdom by this late date, because all the oldsters I knew seemed very wise. They gave each and every question a lot of deliberation before answering. “How wise,” I thought. “They don’t speak before carefully considering each and every possibility. Someday I’ll be like that, instead of just blurting out whatever pops into my head.” Well, nowadays, when somebody asks me a question, I stroke my chin thoughtfully and hesitate before answering, too. But that is only because I am trying to remember the question.

Wise or not, I decided this week’s column would be a good place to list some of the things I’ve learned over the past 62 years. When I told Marilyn of my plan, she thought it was an excellent idea. “That way it’ll be a really short column,” she said.

So let her maintain her skepticism, I don’t care. I firmly believe that I’ve learned some valuable lessons over the past six decades:


If you want to bathe a cat, all you need is a little chloroform. Put an ample amount on a rag, lie down and inhale deeply. When you wake up, the foolish desire to bathe that cat will have flown right out of your head.


It is easier to bathe a parakeet. Bathing a parakeet is perfectly safe, and will not harm you. As to the parakeet, however, if he survives the bath itself, rubbing him dry with a towel will make an awful mess of his little feathers. (My dear wife, who is so certain I’m an idiot, actually bathed a parakeet when she was very young. He didn’t last the night. I believe it was the hair dryer that scared him to death.)
 

The main cause of social and psychological unrest in the world is people. Dogs are better natured, more reliable, and easier to train. Cesar Milan will back me up on this. Taking Rover for a walk four times a day will make him more manageable, while taking Grandpa for a walk four times a day won’t help his disposition a bit.


On the other hand, perhaps if you had Grandpa neutered ...


There is an inverse relationship between an emailer’s IQ and his use of exclamation points. Once you exceed three successive exclamation points, your keyboard should be confiscated by the punctuation police.


You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, but you can make PETA folks quite irate by trying.


The most effective tool of a crooked politician is the euphemism. You can get away with highway robbery if you simply call it income redistribution.


Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he’ll lie for a lifetime.


The best place to find really good stand-up comedy is Congress.


A pithy analysis is a good thing, unless it’s delivered by a congressman with a lisp.


When someone asks you a difficult question, it is usually best to proceed with caution, carefully study all the possible alternatives, weigh the pros and cons, and consider your questioner’s point of view. This will give you time to make something up.


You can spell cat with a “k” if you want to, but the word “cak” doesn’t really make much sense.


A good woman is like a good bottle of wine. Except for the label, the cork, the high shoulders, the bulbous neck and the flat bottom.


Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat Eighth Grade History.


If you want the federal government to produce something that doesn’t suck, let it nationalize the vacuum cleaner industry.


I’ve probably learned some other important things over the past 62 years, but I must stop now. I’m getting another one of those throbbing headaches. We 62-year-olds get a lot of them.