Is anyone doing anything special? Any Cheech and Chong marathons? Perhaps listening to 311 all day, or Cypress Hill?
I’ll be at work, then the gym. I won’t be partaking in any 4/20 celebration, unless I happen upon a drug bust. In that case I’ll probably treat the officers to a bottle of water and a high five, or a handshake.
What’s so special about April 20th? I’m doing the same thing I do everyday. Cleaning, laundry, cooking, reading, checking up on my friends on the net, watching TV. That about sums up my life right now.
I have neighbors in the apartment complex who’re gassing themselves. I mean it just REEKS in here. I can’t imagine how it is where they’re smoking it.
This region is a mecca for California expats and generally a coffeehouse-moonbat type small city. I’ve complained to apartment management and they told me to call the cops. I know better - it’d be a waste of time and just create real problems.
Yeah, like CT, what is “special” about April 20? I’m having lunch with my high school friends tomorrow. But that’s just because that’s when we scheduled it. The next one will probably be in June. We are dwindling rapidly. We just had our 60th reunion two years ago.
Some time last year, one of my classmates called my to remind about the next get together we were having - November, I think, which was the last one we had, and she mentioned the recent deaths of two of our members and said, “We’re dropping like flies.”
There were only six of us showed up for our get-together. Of those who weren’t there, one was just out of the hospital with a knee replacement, another was dragged out after having family there - she has a set of twin granddaughters (or maybe great-granddaughters, I’m not sure), and they got into big trouble with grandma, getting two tubes of lipstick and decorating the bathroom . . .
I don’t know what was with any of the others. I can think of at least 3 more that are usually there. Of course, we’re all getting old, and not getting around too well. I mentioned to one of them that I never feel like getting up in the morning, and she said that she felt the same way. On the other hand, one of them came in all cheerful and when asked how she was doing, “Oh, I’m doing just fine!” What a tonic that was! BTW, she is a retired Army Colonel.
Physical discipline keeps them young. I’ve seen it, and not just in veterans.
When I was a kid, I worked at a golf course summers; and the lead “starter” (the guy who works the counter, gets guys with reserved tee-times going, lets walk-ins play as they can, between reservations; also calls “rangers” out by radio when there’s guys playing through slowly…all kinds of managerial tasks, but he works the cashbox too; more than a greeter)…
…Anyway. He was the starter. Retired phys-ed coach at the local high school…I didn’t go to that high school. But he was eighty; his last students were probably in their late thirties at the time…but all us summer kids, and older guys, too, all called him “Coach.”
Eighty years old. Didn’t wear glasses. Whipcord slender…not scrawny, but muscled. Flat stomach.
He didn’t drive anymore - lost his license. FOR REPEATED SPEEDING TICKETS. He wintered in Florida and driving there and back, he’d roll at 75 or so…that in the age of the 55-mph speed limit. He’d joke that he couldn’t drive 55, just like the song said.
And ALWAYS, a kind word, a smile, a joke…for everyone. For the boss. For us kids. For old guys who were younger than he was who were falling apart physically.
I’d say, body and mind are tied together. Beyond that…I think that people with really remarkable constitutions, just find those physical jobs. Coaching, or professional bodybuilding; or the Armed Services…sometimes the construction trades…but they do it. And most of them, buffed and muscled, are pretty happy folks, when you get down to it.
Happened when the counterculture rose up to overwhelm and tamp down the former mainstream American culture. Now we have a culture oriented around mindless gratification sex; around drugs; around contempt for money and people who have it…while openly envying the money and demanding government steal more of it to give to them, the idle.
A new American culture which cannot tell between fame and infamy; which is all about being NOTICED. It cannot tell between fact and propaganda; and believes facts can be changed just as opinions. Truth and honesty, like hard work and thriftiness and sexual discipline, are old, outmoded, un-hip values.
Heavy pot use is part of this New Morality. Smoke a cigarette, and everyone goes ballistic. Even the e-cigs. But…if you have an e-cig and tell them it’s a new pot delivery mechanism…they’ll be all excited and approving…
The funny part of it is, tobacco smoke to me, is not offensive - and pipe smoke actually smells good. Marijuana STINKS. I mean, like burning tires. But nobody gets all Nazi when the potheads fire up…
Gave up tokin in 2012, wanted the married life. Still miss parts of it tho. I enjoy coffee and tobacco in my enclosed mancave-porch. My wife is a non smoker so I don’t smoke around her. Wow 4/20 came and passed never even noticed. I like being older!
Diet and sleep are also important, I make sure that I get at least 3 pots of strong black coffee and plenty of meat each day, 1 or 2 packs of cigarettes and no more than 5 hours of sleep except for Saturday morning, working at least 10 hours per day in a physical environment rounds out my health regiment.
My daughter HATES that somehow this produces health in me :whistle:
Here’s a little story: My father, and his mother, my grandmother…in terms of lifestyle, they were COMPLETE opposites. My grandmother, an artist and calligrapher originally from Germany…lived the life of a saint. She didn’t smoke. She drank a glass of wine on Christmas only. Her only vice was sweet-breads - she loved the sugared baked goods that were part of German culture.
My father was the opposite. Drafted at age 17, into WWII…he started smoking. And as time allowed, all GIs would drink. Would learn to drink. Would NEED to drink, given what they saw over there.
He kept those habits. Most of his life he smoked cigarettes, between a pack and two packs a day. He’d go through a bottle of whiskey a week…steady evening drinking, daily. Quit smoking? He was an expert on quitting - he’d done it so many times before.
My sainted grandmother, died at age 79, after a series of strokes. Twenty-five years later, my father died - of a series of strokes. Age 75.
Sure, you could say the better habits gave Grandmother four more years. But that’s all…neither of them lived that much longer or shorter than the other, given their drastically-different habits.