Joan and I had dinner with our friends Al, Carl and Linda recently. Al and Carl had been members of our band Allergic To B’s before Joan and I downsized it to a duo following the pandemic. Food was ordered and eaten, stories were told and the laughter was abundant. That’s the way it is with friends of long standing. You can not meet for months, and then pick up right where you left off.

The next day, I ventured into Manhattan to reconnect with my primary acupuncturist, who has an office with a great view on Broadway. Again, we talked and shared our thoughts about current events and she finally got to meet Joan, of whom she had heard so much since we started working together.

While relating my grocery list of ailments to her, the thought occurred to me “I’m getting old.” Actually, that thought had pushed itself into my brain as I made my way to the train from the ferry. I heard the train pulling in and said out loud to myself “I’m not running.” I said the same thing to Joan on our way home. And the thought was disconcerting. I was finally acknowledging the fact that, along with going to very loud concerts and trying to get off the ground without major support, I was no longer going to run to catch a bus, a train or any other vehicle. My days of running were over.

Maybe that’s why older people are often late to affairs, I thought. Maybe........

© The Staten Island Advance