“Growing” Old
The other day, I decided to move the logs I had toted from Heaven knows where to the garden that I painstakingly laid out decades ago. The logs were heavy. They were much heavier taking them out than they were putting them in. I’d like to say they were water-logged and really heavier, but the fact is, I’ve grown old over the last 4 decades. Those logs I hauled in and an laid around the garden as a border and a barrier long ago went in much easier than they came out.
After decades of planting gardens, weeding gardens, tending gardens, fighting bugs, plant diseases and too-much-rain, not-enough-rain, too cold, too hot, frost, floods and drought, I decided that I had had enough of gardens. Enough! I said to myself.
Every year I’ve threatened not to till up the garden and just mow over the weeks with the lawn mower and be done with it. This year I decided to actually go through with it. Why? Because I am old and I am wise. I figured out that last year I spend about $200 growing about $15 worth of tomatoes. Figuring in money I spent for adding more topsoil, organic fertilizer, organic bug stuff, water, plants, and those kinds of things, I had to add in the $100 or so I spent on deer repellent (which didn’t work, by-the-way). I planted about 30 tomato plants. And I made a lot of deer happy – but I ended up about a bushel for myself. A wise man knows when to say when. I am not growing anymore gardens to feed deer, no matter how cute they are. And NO! I’m not going to bring in more logs or posts and build a fence. Heck, it would have to 8 feet high to keep the deer out. Nope this year, I’m older and wiser: I will find and organic farmer – well not an organic farmer really, but a farmer who grows crops organically, and I’ll buy my tomatoes from him (or her).
I’ve gone through with my plan this year, after threatening to do it for years. Now it is, mid-June, no garden and I just cut down the weeds in the garden with my lawnmower.Done and done!
But it wasn’t that easy.
Logs. Those stupid logs that went in so easy all those years ago, had to be taken away so that I could more easily erase all traces of the garden, which by this time of the year had gone to weeds – big weeds. So, I grabbed a log with every intention of picking it up and throwing it in a pile of trash I’ve been working on this spring. I could barely lift the darn thing. When I put those logs in there I was carry them two at a time, with enough wind left to cuss loudly at anyone who was dumb enough to listen. There I was the other day, same guy, me, barely able to drag the logs out of there. I did four of them and sat down on a lawn chair gasping for air and trying to ignore the pain shooting through my lower back.
Six more logs to go. I stood there, hands on my hips, looking at those logs like I was about to climb Mount Everest without a Sherpa. Four more logs, I sagged into the lawn chair out of breath- oh yes, old, and out of shape.
I look over and groan from both misery and from forethought: two more logs to go.
Someone once said, and I can’t remember who, because my mind is going, something like “you can’t be a sissy and grow old” – you have to be tough. because it’s tough, I tells ya!
I finally got up out of the chair, still wheezing and aching and moved the last two logs and put them on the heap of trash that I’ve been building, much to the chagrin of my neighbors, for a while now.
Again I slumped into the lawn chair to chatch my breath and ease my old pain-ridden body. This time I remember the day i put those logs around the garden. That day I went over to the log store and bought ten telephone-pole-sized…not really… logs and tossed them into the back of my old pick-up truck and took them home. Then I carried them two at a time back to the garden until I had all ten situated around the garden, both as a barrier and a border. That being done I planted a few dozen tomato plants and pepper plants and dozens of seeds. Then, and oh this makes me sad, I went on a 3-mile, 18-minute run. When I got home, I squirted off the sweat and cooled off with a good old garden hose. And after all of that, i had nary a pain nor any signs of heavy labored breathing.
On the bright side of things, having pushed my old flabby body to its limits, I didn’t drop dead with a heart attack or stroke. I survived! It’s kind of like winning a fight!
Anyway… having caught my breath and needing to go to the bathroom, I gingerly lifted myself out of the lawn chair and shuffled into the house. That’s right – I said “shuffled”. I thought about how time takes its toll on everything…except wine, cheese, and honey. I have thought about getting back into shape, maybe even do a bit of jogging, but even thinking that kind of stuff exhausts me and I quickly come to my senses.
It’s better to live in an illusory world. And I do.
For instance, when I see that guy on TV who invented the Teeter-Hanger — or whatever it’s called – who claims he’s 74 and starts jumping around like he’s 30, I grab my remote and turn him off. When I shave or have to anything that requires looking in a mirror, I do so in dim light – just enough to get the job done. Luckily, I have had my plumbing fixed, and I don’t mean the plumbing in the house, so that going to the bathroom is not hurry-hurry affair anymore. And while I can’t peel paint off a barn with it…oh sorry – let’s forget that. God bless my doctor for fixing up my plumbing. You will never know how important plumbing until things start happening. It’s horrible not being able go when you have to! So at least two things are now working right – my plumbing and my brain. Well, I guess many would say that my brain isn’t exactly screwed in correctly.
But you know what? One thing I’ll never do, is allow myself to fall into the routine that I call the “waiting to die” routine. I’m not ever going to retire. Why should I? So I can sit around wondering what day it is, watching re-runs of “Gunsmoke”, “Marcus Welby, M.D.” or “Bonanza”– may Hoss and Little Joe rest in peace — drinking prune juice, putting everything I eat in a blender first, sit around for hours on park benches feeding pigeons and all the other things I associate with the “waiting to die” routine. It’s not for me.
So though I may not be able to move logs anymore, I’m not giving into the “waiting-to-die” routine. I’m going to keep on working and keep on trying to keep on. I’ve made a pledge to get back to walking at least 3 or 4 miles a day, no matter how tough it may be. I had to stop walking about ten-months ago due to some health issues which have not been, hopefully, resolved.
I think we should all keep on keeping on and never give up, no matter how heavy those old logs my be, or how out of breath we get. We’re all going to go sometime, but why spend years preparing for it?
Eat,drink, and be merry. And hire somebody to move those logs…
Yea, right! Love your Essay “Growing” old. Today. I can relate 100%. Love your Essays. Ha ha. They are great!
I love this essay. I’ve said the same thing myself many time “keep on keeping on” and that’s why I still do my grocery shopping in spite of severe back pain almost all of the time. No Senior’s or nursing home for me!!!
I still love reading the rants, and still recommend your site to others.
Patricia
TC, I feel your pain. Like you, I’m now old, my best days gone, a mere memory. I recently lost the lower part of my left leg so it makes life even more interesting than it was before. I have a prosthesis but it takes time to become accustomed to walking with it. It’s a long slow process not without pain. They keep telling me to be patient and it will get better. At least I can now hobble around the house, which is an improvement. But these improvements come slowly and not without a price that has to be paid. Things could definitely be worse. I’ve seen a lot of guys in my rehab classes that are really in bad shape. I’m lucky, I’m grateful, and there are things that I can do that many others can only dream. Hang in there, life has it’s really good moments. We just have to rearrange our priorities and place importance on the things that really matter. Take care and be safe……Lee
I hope this story may be of some small help! I know myself will step-up [now] that, I…
May 31, 2015: If a 92-year-old can run a marathon, anyone can, right?
http://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2015/06/01/411260984/a-92-year-old-ran-her-16th-marathon-and-broke-a-record
I seen her on the news, crossing the line to finish the race….amazing! Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Remembering all the time that no matter how bad things are, some poor soul out there has it worse off. A positive attitude is a grace from God….may we be so blessed.
TC, I always enjoy your musings, essays, stories….whatever one wants to call them. Sometimes I laugh and sometimes you make me cry….but I always manage to feel good about things after reading them. So thank you and God Bless
I enjoyed reading your story and I think that, at my age of 80, I am older than you. I am also smarter – I would have hired some one to remove the logs. Since I would have no way of hauling them away and would have to hire some one to do that, they could easily incorporate the tear-down of the garden bed. I have several ailments (none of which are going to kill me in the near future) that keep me from working or even walking for more than a few hundred feet or so. I continue to start jobs that would have taken me a half hour or so several years ago but now it is an effort to go get the tools I might need. You did not mention a spouse – in my case I am fighting a losing battle trying to take care of my wife who has Alzheimer’s.
Thanks for your great (and somewhat familiar) story,
Don
Dear TC,
What ever your number is . . . .it is only a number . . . . . not to be judged or put into a box to be ticked and put aside as if you have passed your sell by date. I have been a very avid follower of yours for many years and have enjoyed the stories that you have shared with us also your dreams and aspirations. As long as you keep the old grey matter ticking over and are a thorn in somebody’s side every now and again what more can you ask.
If somebody challenges me and thinks that they have stolen the march I always come back with do not let the grey hair fool you and they take a step back and realize that this old girl still does have some marbles left.
As for the water works it happens and as long as you have a good plumber hang in there. Hope to spend many more years with you in my sights.
Best wishes,
Maggie.
Do enjoy your comments and musings. Know you’re much younger than many of us. I’ve been threatening to no longer maintain my flowerbeds…however, spent five whole days weeding the darn things a few weeks ago and actually planted 15 new plants. I keep remembering how hard it was to get rid of the grass and weeds in those areas way back when…as well as the edging…so just couldn’t follow through on my threats….maybe next year!
Keep up your good work!
Jest tellin’ it like it is, huh? Enjoyed it and who wants to hafta repaint the barn anyway? :0
It’s so easy to give up on the garden when you get old. We have Vervet Monkeys that devour any fruit that doesn’t even get a chance to ripen properly. The Rock Hyrax (Dassies) in our language eat all foliage that is tasty. Roses plus blooms, Geranium flowers and leaves and parsley if you are brave enough to plant it, plus lemon tree leaves which were stripped until only a bare stem was left. We love our wild life and so enjoy watching the inter action especially when the babies arrive clutching at the mothers’ chest near the food. We haven’t surrendered yet!
Chop Wood, Carry Water. You made a big mistake doing away with your garden. Just use your head instead of your back and go to box gardening. Use the new composite decking boards to build your boxes and continue your life as a healthy person in body and mind.
Good luck, Mike
The deer eat everything and I never did find a deer repellent that worked, And installing a six or eight foot fence just isn’t possible. So it’s really not my age or laziness, but the just the amount of money being spent on a such a small crop. I worked hard on the garden last year for just a handful of tomatoes…the deer got fat though.
Hi TC,
I agree with all you have said but missed out one small detail that I found, after a day in the garden I went into the bathroom looked into the mirror and saw with surprise my father looking back at me, how time flies.
I join most of your writers and fans, am most curious about your age – which HAS to be younger than my own, I have entertained most of their thoughts and most all of their encounters with “critters” both animal and…
But I do have one question for you that, so far, no one else has asked re your gardening until evidently recently: WHEN DID YOU EVER FIND THE TIME!?
Respectfully,
Shari
A big Amen to your story! Like you, my days of heavy lifting are done. I still work part time as trying to live on S.S. sucks. So with a few extra coin in my purse I manage to pay my bills and keep on moving. I use to do a little gardening too but atlas, my back says no way any more. What with ” Ole Art” setting up shop in my back and knees Its best just to go buy the darn things I need rather than spend all that money to feed the critters any ways. When I was a kid my parents were all saying walk don’t run. Now that is a trial some days just to do that. For all those youngsters out there who say that will never be me. I say HA! Some day you will be old too and the thought of not doing things for yourself like you use too will be a everyday challenge. So laugh while you can. Do what you while you are physical able and everything in moderation. Keep on smiling folks. Some days just getting out of bed is adventure. : )
Ah ! the golden years ( Rusty Years) that’s what I call them .