The Old Men

Lately, the old men who populate the life of the SJG keep sharing a similar theme. It goes something like this: "Getting old sucks." Of course, when you consider the alternative, it's better than not getting old.  But still.  Rumor has it that the body starts to say, "Enough." And strange things start to happen.  Things the old men can't exactly explain. "When did your back start hurting?" I ask my father-in-law. "A few weeks ago."  "What happened?" "Who knows."  "How did you fall off your chair?" I ask my dad.  "I don't know.  I was sitting there and the thing broke. " "What thing?" "The plastic thing." "The tray you keep the keyboard on?"  "Yes." The result of the thing breaking:  a black eye, a hurt shoulder, many weeks of pain.  The old men in question:  Both born in Brooklyn.  Both Bar Mitzahed in the same temple.  Both stubborn old Jews.  God forbid you should offer to help either one of them.  "Let me drive you to the doctor."  "I'll drive myself."  "Let me go to the market for you."  "No, thanks." "What can I do for you?" "Nothing." "I'd be happy to -- "  "No."  "What about -- " "No." The old men.  They drive me crazy sometimes.  God willing, they'll keep doing it for a long time.  Kina hora, poo poo poo.