Jerry's View: Jerry, the builder
I was sitting on my enclosed patio last week, the warm sun teasing my aging body when it occurred to me that I’ve been very lucky. Lucky to be alive at 92 with no pain.
I use a walker to negotiate my way to the dinner table and a bathroom break or two but otherwise I have little to trouble me.
Except my hands...
I sometimes wonder if Harry “Kid” Matthews snuck into my room while I was asleep and laced up some 16 oz. gloves on me. My fingers feel like cold potato steak fries when I sit down to the computer. I try to type aNd iT cmes out lke ths. Sie wht Imean?
It’s not easy being 92 and trying to run the newspapers.
Don’t feel sorry for me. I have help but it does remind me of what I can’t do. I can’t drive any longer so I write my column from home most weeks. I can’t sell ads on the street due to my wobbly legs. I can’t run the presses because the foreman does not talk loud enough for me to hear the instructions. I stopped delivering the paper when someone stole my bike seat.
If I sound negative, I am. I resent not being able to do all the things I used to do.