Learning the hard way that getting older is no picnic at all

It’s time to admit it: I’m not a young man any longer.

How did I reach this conclusion? It took a couple of incidents this week to drive home the fact that at some point you start to “lose it.”

Actually, I think in my case I have such a busy life with a wife and four kids and jobs, etc., that the mind at 50-something runs a little slow. Sort of like your computer when you’re sitting there waiting for it to boot up or hit a web site. Drives you nuts, doesn’t it?

This week was the topper though. My youngest left something at home I believed he needed for school. So being a good dad I grabbed it, tossed it into the car, answered a call or two on my cell phone and promptly dropped off the item. Unfortunately, I took it to the wrong school office. Granted, they are pretty much right next to each other but how the heck I got that one wrong is beyond me.

Then there was the doctor’s appointment I thought was on Thursday when actually it was today. So much for that calendar feature in the cell phone.

This week also took me to the funeral services for a guy I worked for way back in my younger days. He and his family owned a farm market and I was their deli guy.

They were a funny family. The farm market sold mostly fruits and veggies but also had a deli and a fish market to it as well. We worked millions of hours a week for “Big Joe” but we had lots of fun.

There were a lot of characters who worked there as well. And the stories of the nutty crap that went on there are just endless. Of course my favorite remains the night when one of the trucks loaded with corn broke down on I-95 near Chester.

We took another truck to the broken down truck and we figured we transfer the load of corn from one truck to another. Now the smart thing would have been to carry them around from Point A to Point B. Well, that wasn’t Joe’s idea. So what did he do? Ha, he simply backed the working truck onto I-95 with cars and trucks whizzing past blowing horns so that the two trucks backed up to each other making the moving of the corn that much easier.

I just stood there in amazement as we pulled that one off. There are lots more where that one came from, trust me.

Young Joey – “Big Joe’s” son – was more the customer service guy. His dad was more the yelling and screaming at us guy. But we took it in stride. Joey was a more calm guy, happy to keep the place neat and tidy while his dad and brother were more intimately involved in the dollars and cents part of things.

Never did I dream that Joey was pass away at the young age of 54. I hadn’t seen him in quite a few years. The last time actually was when his son’s high school ice hockey team played my son’s high school team at Ice Line here in West Chester. We talked for a bit, watched the game and then went home. I don’t think I saw him much since that night.

I saw some of his surviving family the other day. It sure seems odd now as I was a 19 or 20-year-old when I worked for them. We think time passes quickly but it doesn’t. The years drag on by and we kids got married, had kids and some of our kids are having kids. As in the case of Joey. I saw his son now a grown up guy. Not the scrawny kid at the hockey rink.

His ex-wife was there too. Over all the years she and Joey had divorced but had stayed friendly. They shared their relationships with their kids so it seems like turned out OK.

So here we are.

So many years ago working with Joey and his family, getting married, having kids, getting older, kids having kids, funerals.

Getting older stinks. And I guess going to the wrong school and forgetting a doctor’s appointment is just the beginning. And here I thought I was doing fine. Maybe I am and I just don’t realize or remember.

— Andy Hachadorian

About fromtheeditorchair

I am the editor of the Daily Local News.
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