I found the artifacts, photographed and uploaded here, among my aunts things years ago. Its all we have left in the end, artifacts of those former generations. That and wonder: if the dead could speak, what would they tell us?
The blimp? Goodyear, 1930s…who took that picture in Miami where my Uncle lived?
who are these nuns? when was the photograph taken? is that, as I suspect, Keuka Lake? was it a hot day? good Lord, who made up those costumes?
And this poem, OLD AGE IS HELL? who typed this up? it is found on the Internet, but did the typist make up the last two lines here?
Old Age is Hell
The body gets stiff, you get cramps in your legs Corns on your feet as big as hens eggs,
Gas in your stomach, elimination is poor, Take ex-lax at night, but then you’re not sure,
You soak in the tub, or the body will smell
OLD AGE IS HELL
The teeth start decaying, eyesight is poor,
Hair falling out, all over the floor,
Sex life is shot, its the thing of the past,
Don’t kid yourself friend, even that doesn’t last.
Can’t go to parties, don’t dance anymore,
just putting it mildly, you’re a hell of a bore.
Liquor is out, can’t take a chance,
bladder is weak, might pee in your pants.
Nothing to plan for, nothing to expect,
Just the mailman, bringing your social security check!!!
Now be sure your affairs are in order and your will is just right,
or on the way to your grave there’ll be a hell of a fight.
So if this New Years Eve, if you feel fairly well,
THANK GOD YOUR ALIVE ALTHO. OLD AGE IS HELL.