I HAVE BEEN WRITING OFF AND ON ABOUT MALE AGING. HERE IS THE STORY FROM THE OTHER PERSPECTIVE!
My lovely mother, Trudy.
I turned into my mother yesterday. It’s good because Mom was fun, neurotic and beautiful until the day she died. It’s bad because at the age of 55, I became . . . gasp . . . a youthful senior citizen. It’s been looming for awhile, this thing called old age: worsening eyesight, wrinkles, diminishing physical ability. But yesterday, my intermittent knee pain hit with a vengeance while it was raining. Dear God, I’ve gotten to the point where I can predict the weather with my arthritic knees. I remember my mother talking about rain as she flexed stubby gnarled fingers. I would listen half-heartedly, mildly amused, a little grossed out. And now, sadly, it’s me.
There are a lot of awful, yet fairly universal, things that happen as you age. Since doctor’s don’t hand out pamphlets on what to expect, although they should – Dip…
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By the Mighty Mumford 