90 is the new 80, Superheroes

An age where you need assistance from a Big Ass fan to blow out the candles, fire extinguisher close by, where did the time go? Ask a retiree what they do all day and you will get a blank stare, incoherent muttering and always, always a smirk thinking I do whatever the hell I want to do every single day.

News flash a 104 year old/young woman died in her sleep the day after skydiving. A splendid exit plan, fearless to the very end, impressive. Her bucket list grand finale. One hundred percent sure I would not jump out of a plane unless the pilot, copilot and my luggage went out ahead of me.

My aunt Carmie was 92 when she failed her first attempt at renewing her driver's license. Navigating solo from Bernard Iowa to Cascade (12 miles) failed the test, continued onto Dubuque (25 miles) failed again, then finally US 61 to Maquoketa (32 miles) mercifully turned a blind eye and made Aunt Carmie's day. Officially licensed, she drove the last leg home (24 miles), gassed up the tank, made dinner, watched Wheel. Determination with a rebel mix and pretty good at jigsaw puzzles, that's the blood that runs through these veins too. Thanks Aunt Carmie.

No secrets in my family, there are too many of us to hide anything...the last piece of fried chicken, a favorite sweater, nearly forgotten memories.  Brother Mark related an especially tragic story of his closest sibling Neal, inseparable clowns, guilty of all imaginable chaos unleashed on six clueless sisters, annoying yet two of the funniest guys on earth. Neal, a nineteen year old wise guy, traded his beloved rusted Ford truck to our brother Larry's friend, Pat in exchange for a horse. About a week after the trade was made Pat called Neal with the bad news, the horse was dead, but the truck was running like a dream.

My dear mother, a no-nonsense, merciless card playing sleuth, Grandma's house was an amateur's nightmare, a shark's ultimate challenge. My boys well accomplished students of their sweet, unassuming Grandma, loved playing Euchre, Thirty-One, Go Fish absolutely any card game was serious, life or death with Grandma, she would provide the ante then persistently determined, eventually win it all back … and keep it, her streak intact. She adored my boys, proud to provide life lessons in the art of all card games imagined, she was the guru, the master, nothing brought her more joy than facing off with adolescent grandsons who were as ruthless as she at the card table, no gimmies, just cagy strategy, a poker face, a touch of Lady Luck, only winners rule.

It may come as quite a surprise to no one that I didn't spend as much time as I should have following the straight and narrow.  Lucky for me, I've got my mother and father above along with family connections who understand I need all the spiritual help I can get, whose prayers have saved me a bizillion times. I'm not entirely a slouch, when stuff happens that should get me killed or maimed and I actually survive, I say a sincere Thank You Lord knowing someone 'Up There' and down here is taking care of me. Sure a slew of skeletons litter my path but I'm not so worried, sooner or later I'll turn to dust, my guardian angel will get a well deserved vacation, then hopefully we will both head somewhere very nice together.