As a 70-year-old man, I’ve had lots of time to become full of my bloviating self on a large-scale and felonious basis. I suspect this is also true for most old men, excepting the small crowd of gentle, humble, and kind old men. It goes with the old man turf, or the old macho man world turf, and we old men, or rather old and cantankerous codgers, can’t help ourselves.
But the good news is that despite being afflicted with this “condition”, along with being annoyingly jaded, loud, rude and anything else you can think of, a caring and kind heart often co-exists deep within our psyche and soul if you’re willing to peel off the layers of thick skin we’ve grown over the years to protect ourselves from the evils of the world to which we’re exposed. It’s as if we’re a macho bipolar codger of the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde kind, capable of sending confusing signals and soundbites, along with threats to all who dare cross us and our paths.
Meanwhile, our wives and significant female others have spent a lifetime trying to change us, taking up this treacherous assignment when they, and we, were young, believing that it was in their power to turn us around to the person they thought they had caught, only to discover the person we really were and are. They constantly ooze in frustration after many years of futile efforts, and discover that what they got, long ago, is what they still have today.
To our damsels in distress, us older guys can often be heard telling them, “If I’m too much, go find less.”
Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum
