Living Longer: The tarnished Golden Years — with wisdom polished enough to see the con

OH, THE BEAUTY of the Golden Years! Celebrated throughout our American culture. The warmth, the abundance of wisdom, the wonderful rosy glow of a well-lived life. The just and well-earned rewards.

I grew up with that, as we all did. But when the time arrived, I learned that the honey-colored years are not truly golden, but a color closer to the stamped-down hay in a horse stall.

Take ailments. You get older, your ailments are entitled to the dignity of proper respect. But today ailments are a joke. You get no sympathy.  An ailment used to mean something. Our parents would never have tolerated it; they’d get massive support whenever they had a tiny hitch in their giddy-up. Their friends would bring them casseroles! But today that’s all gone. Like house visits by doctors. You bring up your ailment and all it does is encourage the poseurs around you to try and top your ailment with theirs. Pinkeye! Tennis elbow! Fallen arches! Like it’s a competition. Very disappointing.