WHEN I AM SIXTY-EIGHT

wheniamsixtyeightI never thought I would one day reach this age, at least not so soon. It seems I have only taken a short walk. but now i suddenly arrive at this junction and find that i cannot reverse or turn back. my hair has turned snowy white beside my right temple overnight. Looking back at the 68 years it was like a mere sigh in the night, just as the psalmist has discovered three thousand years ago.

Earth man tends to think of time within our known world and indeed it’s framed in a rather short span for each living creature. No matter how much each man tries to stretch his span, perhaps by a few years or even ten or more, still it does not count much in terms of the actual span of existence planned for each soul in the eternity of God.

Suddenly I have to answer some pertinent questions, who am I and what shall I become in the remains of my days on earth? How shall I live my remaining numbered days until I cross over to the unnumbered days of eternity?

Today is my last day of 67th and a question came while I was walking on the treadmill, what shall I leave behind to my successors if any? A very young one recently DECLARED in the family group WhatsApp chat that she was ANGRY for not having a TV to watch her favorite football team playing, “AND EVERYONE IS LIKE/SLOWLY DYING//” (referring to her ‘aging’ football icons who have announced their forthcoming retirements one by one). She is worried that they are growing old too soon and she would not have good football to watch when she grows up, the younger generation being what they are today, she aptly judged.  Even a thirteen-year-old worries about human icons growing too old to play football one day and perhaps even dying. This one certainly knows what good football should be like. The other day she lamented that she was born too late and that she should have been in her mother’s generation because she had missed out watching such quality football and now all she has are leftovers and the players are growing old.

Coming back to my own growing old. What am I doing here typing away on my 2016 MacBook using the latest Window Office Word program? I was almost asleep just now but a notification of a mobile phone message woke me and now I am wide awake. I just look at the time and it’s 12:45am. So I am officially really chronologically 68.

Why do I use Office Word when I can use my MacBook Pages? Why did I insist on installing the Word program on my present and first MacBook two months ago? But I have been a user of Word since its coming to being. How could I suddenly stop? After I received my Mac I learned every relevant function like a typical teenager would do if he had received such a generous gift! I use the mac daily now. but I miss my pc that runs on Widow OS. Somehow I still miss the old (about two-year-old) laptop and the faithful days she has served me mainly in processing my writing hobby. Pity she fell to the floor and hit her head badly during a power failure in one of the poorest countries in the world when I tripped over the extension cord in the dark. Now the “e” refuses to budge. I had to copy ‘e’ from somewhere and paste onto my writing. Quite a task until I got my Mac.

What an interesting or boring topic I am ranting right now. Lately someone in the chat group prompted all of us to update our WhatsApp so our chats, videos, photos etc. will be encrypted end to end. Otherwise someone else can access and eavesdrop. That started a panic and everyone of us updated. Then something strange happened. When I wanted to use WhatsApp google drive prompted me to backup and giving me the options of frequencies only (daily, weekly, or monthly). There was no other option. So I clicked monthly. Another strange thing happened. WhatsApp wanted to access my google drive. I could not access WhatsApp until I acceded to its request (demand). What was I to do? So I emailed my family chat group old and young near and far. I informed them to start using Facebook messenger to reach me if any. I also took action into my own hand by deleting all my google drive data. One of my contemporary told me she uninstalled WhatsApp from all her phones. She then reinstalled in one phone dedicated to WhatsApp only! while I was getting ready to go out and get another phone for WhatsApp only someone from a younger generation emailed and gave me and the group sensible advice and urged us not to panic. His advice calmed me (us) down. And now I am using the same old WhatsApp again without doing the drastic move of getting a dedicated WhatsApp mobile phone. However, since two members did not update their WhatsApp in time so I went ahead and deleted them so our chats could be encrypted from end to end. Later they updated and rejoined. Now my headache is one closest buddy refuses to update her WhatsApp. So my messages to her are reduced to minimal and in my own codes. (She has since refused to read my coded messages or chats).

This blog is free flow and refuses to follow any spelling, grammar or any other forms of English language rules. So my retired English teacher neighbor blocks away must not read and try to correct by WhatsApping or FaceBookmessaging or Hangouting or Twittering or Weiboing or Lining or whatever modern social messaging Apping me please. Don’t attempt to come with your umbrella and check if I happen to venture into my garden and give me a whack on the head too. My faithful dog gracie can spot your scooter from a km off. She is smart, you know, having a smart owner. She knows a variety of languages too due to the in and out of guests in my humble abode. Of course her mother tongue is English.

Well that’s enough ranting from an up-to-date and futurist sixty-eight. What a way to start a new year.

p/s: someone just called and queried whether this one was written by the youngest member of the chat group (the thirteen year old football fan).

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