Good Morning, Fellow Ice Rink Patrons

This morning I finally knew what it will feel like to be an old man, should I last that long. As I doddered down the ice-strewn streets, each step more cautious than the one before, I once again wondered how the elderly manage to make it in this town. Forget the loneliness and the way society tends to overlook those who are no longer in their demographic prime — not that I am in any way minimizing that suffering — but how the hell do those poor people get around? Because even as a relatively able-bodied adult it was almost impossible to navigate our slick sidewalks, to say nothing of the deceptively deep lakes that are now in place at every corner. (If your socks are somehow dry this morning, you have a better set of boots than I do. Or you live in an area with proper drainage.) Anyway, as always, be careful out there. I’m going to spend the next couple of hours researching a mythical season called spring. I know it’s very unlikely that we will ever get to experience it, but still, isn’t it pretty to think so.

Photo by Charles Smith, from Flickr.