Monday, January 19, 2015

Time Marches On and Over Me

This past weekend my family got together for a belated holiday party. It was more like a family reunion since we don't see each other that often.

My 87-year-old father was unable to attend because he wasn't feeling well. When I called to check on him the next day, he said it wasn't anything specific, simply old age. 

I told him I could sympathize with him because I occasionally have various and sundry aches and pains. 

While looking at some photographs of the party, it occurred to me that I was the oldest person there. That's what happens when you're the oldest of seven children.

I don't mind being the oldest -- and I don't feel that old, act that old, or look that old. But I'm sure the great nephews and great nieces as well as my granddaughters, even my own siblings, might argue some if not all, of those points. 

Probably the safest bet for me in the future will be extended family reunions, where I have a few aunts as well as several cousins older than me.  

Until then, I will insist that my Dad at least make an appearance at our get-togethers to claim that age-old honor. 

Until the next time...

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