I remember Matt Monroe’s song, If “I Never Sing another Song”, the front lyrics goes this way—
“In my heyday, young girls wrote to me
Everybody seemed to have time to devote to me
Everyone I saw all swore they knew me…”
…There were times I felt the world belonged to me
And so you see
It was a song by a celebrity whose time has faded. I am not a celebrity but I could relate. I have had my share of glories, triumphs, successes and accomplishments in my heyday, all minor as it were, to tide memory over. I thought that it would last long. Not until ageing begins to unravel its mystery on the body.
One day, there is a change of pace, from brisk walking to strain plodding; from respiring to gasping; from outdoor excitement to indoor sedation; from feasting to dieting and finally, from playing to praying.
I can no longer hold a candle ambling from one point to another distant point. I remember lots of instances when I was waiting in an assigned gate at the airport terminal for my flight back home when at last minute, there were changes announced at boarding time. The assigned gate is almost a mile distant from the original station. Although that is just a simple stretch, to reach iot in a jiffy, one must however be a sprinter. I could no longer do that. My lungs and hamstrings no longer correspond to an episode of track and field. Hence, I must be dependent on trolley pushers in the area. That’s right, riding on wheel chair, while comfortable smacks directly at one’s manhood. I felt helpless, indigent and washed up. These are attributes I never expected to feel in the course of my retirement. I wanted to feel accomplished, respected and even feared.
Well, not anymore. In reality, there I was—–a template of paralysis, destitute-looking, powerless and forlorn. Nature indeed has a way of leveling.
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