Fears of Aging in the Midst of Madness

by Ernie McCray

I’m nearing 88 years
and along with that
there are, of course,
a few fears,
anxieties rising
just from seeing
all my meds
set in front of me
on the coffee table
where I used to place a few knick-knacks,
and there are the
aches and pains
suddenly appearing like hoodlums
crashing a party,
and the loss of the ability to do
things I once
did very well
like getting up
and sitting down
without making a sound,
and I am constantly using my cane
to make sure
I’m balanced
so I don’t fall down,
sometimes needing help
to both stand up
and sit down,
making me wonder
“Was that really me
who once was known
for hitting jump shots
and hook shots
and grabbing rebounds?

When did that guy leave town?”

Well, as scary as all that might sound,
I’m actually
kind of advancing in years
somewhat gracefully,
still getting around,
soaking in the love of family and friends,
making myself heard around town.

And, really, pretty much the only thing
that has truly been frightening to me,
as my age creeps
towards the end of me,
is simply,
for a decade or so,
not being able to read a paper
or turn on the TV
or the radio
without being subjected
to some social or political sin
a sorry-ass-orange-faced-so-and-so
has perpetrated against humanity
the day before or that day,
making it difficult
to have a nice conversation with a friend
without his name getting in the way.

All to say
It’s hard enough growing old
without a madman
in your face
trying to break down
all the strides that the lovers of the world
have made
towards making the world a better place.

But I’ve learned during my 80 plus years
that the struggle between good and evil
never ends
and I will do my little part
to seek a win
until my very end.

It’s a way of overcoming my aging fears
and imagining whacking that insane lamebrain
in the White House
to Kingdom Come
with my cane.

Amain*.

*(vocabulary word for the day)