There are certain realities in life that we must all one day accept as, well, reality.
Speaking on a personal level, I’m quite bald. Yes, it’s a fact that I do indeed shave my head — but that’s not a fashion statement as much as it is a necessary step to prevent the temptation of a dreaded comb-over down the line. I’ve also been slapped in the face with the realization that I do not possess the sculpted body of Lou Ferrigno — no, I’m more in line with Lou Abbott.
I’m not writing this with the sole intention of making myself look bad, though I clearly see that’s where this is headed. No, it’s because another little reality has locked itself on to my brain recently.
I’m getting older.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I realize that I’m not nearing elderly status, and I hope that there are many years left in this vessel that carries my soul. However, as the years begin to mount, and the ravages of day-to-day life take their toll, I’ve realized that the bounce in my step has slowly been replaced by a drag in my shuffle.
I got out and did a little yard work this past weekend. Nothing major, mind you. I just got out a little bit on Sunday to enjoy the weather and get the yard cleaned up for the season. I didn’t chop down any trees, there was no extensive weeding that would have put my knees and back in peril and I didn’t scale any ladders or walls.
Yet, there I was Monday morning. My alarm greeted me to the new day, my eyes slightly opened and I swung my arm over to hit the snooze button. But there was no contact made with the clock. My arm fell off right at the shoulder.
Well, maybe that’s a slight overstatement. My arm did not exactly fall off as I reached, but I kind of wished it would have at the time. There was a cracking noise, followed by the sensation of a dozen little chipmunks gnawing at my tendons and ligaments — which was ultimately topped off by a small muffled scream as I felt painful sensations race down my entire side and tickle the tips of my toes.
I guess what I’m trying to get across is that I was sore.
This is not an entirely new sensation to me. Throughout my youth, there would be days when the rigors of wrestling practice or a workout in the Marine Corps would leave me a twisted shell of humanity the next morning. But that was after something that was actually physically stressful — not following a few hours of bagging branches and cutting grass.
This was just, well, kind of sad.
I realize that the reality that I’m turning 40 in a few months is probably hanging over me a bit, causing me to maybe look at my age a little closer these days. And I know full well that the fact that I’m in worse shape than an elephant with sore feet probably contributes more to my pain than any chronological element in my life. However, it still stinks on ice to spend three days walking like a mummy. Speaking of which, man, I love mummy movies. Remember that one where...
But I digress.
Though we will have more coverage on this next week, I feel the need to congratulate the staff of the Coastal Point on their performance at the annual Maryland-Delaware-District of Columbia (MDDC) Press Association awards banquet last week. Between advertising and editorial, the Coastal Point brought home 29 awards. Bob Bertram, who I so enjoy picking on quite regularly, received the prestigious “Best in Show” trophy, for his efforts on a marketing piece that pretty much made fun of my head, and fellow artist Jaime McNamee absolutely cleaned up with her work over the past year.
I’m comfortable speaking on Susan’s behalf here, when I say that we feel we have the most talented staff assembled at a weekly newspaper anywhere, and we’re brimming with pride over the fine work they do each and every week.
I’d also like to congratulate Jim Flood, who was put in the MDDC’s hall of fame for the work he did throughout his illustrious career. Mr. Flood is the founder and former publisher of the Dover Post, and built his company from one weekly paper into a publishing entity of 10 papers and a printing press.
The Dover Post has printed our paper since the beginning, and the help and advice we received from Mr. Flood, as well as his son, Jim Flood, Jr., have proven invaluable to us. We owe a great debt of gratitude to the Flood family, and couldn’t be happier or more proud for his inclusion in the MDDC hall of fame.