When The Keepers Tremble

I had an epiphany while I was standing in the Sams Club pharmaceutical section holding a can of “Joint Juice” at arm’s length, trying to read the microprint on the label to figure out how many milligrams of glucosamine were in it versus how many were in its nearest competitor, “Jogging in Jug.” The reason I was holding the “Joint Juice” at arm’s length was because I’d forgotten my reading glasses. The reason I was reading the label is that whenever I go up or down stairs, fall into or labor up from a sitting position, or walk forwards, backwards or sideways, my knees hurt. The only time my knees don’t hurt is when I’m asleep. I take one of those PM otc’s for that.

I looked up from the can with the freakishly small print, turned to the wormy-looking stranger beside me, and said, “It just occurred to me that I have lived well over half my life.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “I’m an actuary. How old are you?”

“Fifty-five.”

“Family history of heart disease, high blood pressure, high cholesterol?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”

“How many miles a year do you drive,” he asked.

“Fifteen thousand, give or take, but I rotate the tires and change the oil regularly.”

“Irrelevant,” he said. “Exercise, eat right?

“No,” and, “Are you kidding? Look at me.”

“Smoke?”

“No.”

“Married?”

“Yes.”

He looked down for a moment, mentally calculating, then said, “Yep. You’re in the last half of the third quarter.”

“I’m in the bottom of the 7th inning.”

“You’re on the 14th hole.”

“I’m in Act two, scene 3.”

“You passed the half way mark about ten years ago. I’d figure you for another 35 years, give or take. Hope you enjoyed the halftime show.”

He patted me on the shoulder as he walked away.

I stood there thinking, How did this happen? One day, I’m fresh out of college with the world by the tail. The next, I’m spending every Saturday morning at Sams stocking up on vitamin supplements. That pair of expandable waist-line slacks I tried on the other day felt good. They’d go great with a pair of solid white, Velcro athletic shoes.

This painful epiphany was interrupted by the sudden realization that I had to go to the bathroom. One the way, I made a mental note to check out the prostate supplements next Saturday morning. Washing my hands in the bathroom, a different man starred back at me from the mirror. He wasn’t all that bad looking. Those wrinkles added character. The gray beard evoked wisdom, credibility, experience. There were too many chins, but they can subtract those these days.

I found my wife waiting in the checkout with a fifty pack roll of paper towels and a five gallon tub of picante sauce. The 12-year-old clerk scanned our purchases. I went with the “Joint Juice” because it promised a fruity effervescence. We rode home in silence while I processed my mortality and sipped on my glucosamine supplement.

That night, I read Ecclesiastes 12:1 – 3. “Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, ‘I find no pleasure in them,’ before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars grow dark, and the clouds return after the rain; when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men stoop, when the grinders cease because they are few, and those looking through the glass grow dim.”

They say Solomon wrote Ecclesiastes when he was old and cynical. It does proffer a rather pessimistic view of life. One of its favorite phrases is, “Meaningless, meaningless.” Maybe the book’s inclusion in the Bible is God’s way of saying, “Don’t go there. There is nothing good down that road. Don’t be afraid of growing old. Trust me — being ancient has its advantages. And whatever you do, don’t try to pretend to be something you no longer are. There is nothing more ridiculous than a guy who belongs in a Buick pretending he fits in a Ferrari.”

I resolved then and there to embrace what’s left of life with joy. I still have my “grinders,” and even if they all fall out, my dentist says he can fix that. “Those looking through the windows,” my eyes, aren’t what they used to be, but they haven’t yet grown dark. And my hands, “the keepers,” don’t yet tremble. But when they do, there will be someone there to hold them.