with apologies to Nora Ephron, who feels bad about her neck

I feel really bad about my legs. Thay have served me well, and we have had  mutual respect for each other. Only twice did I fall and really hurt them: once on a tennis court, once rushing to get a frozen yogurt cone and tripping over a planter..And, of yes, up the steps frpm the garage to the house at Harmons, helping to clean up the Bloody Mary remains. On July 4th.

They are medium-looking legs; no one ever said "wow. look at them gams", but no one averted their eyes because I had thinny, stick-like legs, either. Or did I wear long skirts or pants to disguise them. They were just my legs and they suited me fine.

Until I hit 91. And it's not as much that they look much worse, but they have mostly stopped working. During the day, with considerable help, I can use the walker for the short 26 steps to the bathroom. It's 26 when I am not shuffling or mincing along, but walking like a real person.On a walker.

At night, that is a different story. Back and forth in the wheel chair! I hate that. And I wish my legs would reconsider our happy, long relationship, and show a little gumption and let me get up and go.

Euthnanized Enthusiasm

In the '60's, when I was in my '40's, we plaintively asked, "Where have all the flowers gone?" Now I am in my '90's. and we are well into the next century, I plaintively ask, "Where has all my enthusiasm gone"?" I am too lethargic by half, and, once a political wonk, I now, hardly, my dears, give a  damn.

I miss getting excited, I miss getting involved, I miss being passioante about something-- about anything. (Even at 91, I miss being passionate about passion, itself.) And all of this, at long last, is what aging is.

The election, tomorrow, would have had me worked up into a fine lather. I definitely have my preferences, but not enough to stay up into the wee hours of the morning. I certainly prefer Strickland to Kasich; I prefer Fisher to DeWine; it may be close ( the Governor, anyhow), but I am not going to want to escape to Canada or Outer Mongolia even if my candidates lose. Even when Ohio State loses.

Maybe it is alright to smother my enthusiasm; maybe, finlly, at my age, I have a little perspective on life.

I liked the other me better; but this is the me I've got.