Cooperative Living January 2018 - 42

Rural Living | by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
Reading and trudging
away, into another
blessed New Year!
I'm quite glad I spent many years of my youth as a dancing fool.
I
t's a new year, and you know what that
means: We'll all be another year older,
sooner or later ... if we're lucky.
There are many things I was told when
I was younger that I barely listened to,
and now really wish I had. There are even
more things that " oldsters " knew and
kept to themselves. Either they didn't want
to discourage us young folks, or they
decided to keep their secrets and let us
learn for ourselves that aging brings some
unhappy surprises.
I'm quite glad I spent many years of
my youth as a dancing fool. It's certain
that I am not commanding a dance floor
nowadays. Sure, every once in a while,
a song comes on TV that has me hauling
my considerable self out of my easy chair,
and doing what passes at my age for a
dance. One night recently, there was a
tribute to the Bee Gees on TV. Oh. My.
Stars. I couldn't stop dancing, right there
in my living room. Some sort of magic
overcame me, and I felt 25 again. Oh, it
was exciting!
Had Brownie still been with me, she
would have shot me a quizzical look, and
slunk underneath the dining room table.
Dogs and cats are not too fond of dancing.
Once, back when I was dog-sitting two
big, chocolate darlings, I leapt up to
dance to a reggae tune. (I was still
leaping then; now all I leap to are
conclusions.) The larger dog got very
excited; he got a wide, dopey grin on his
face, and leapt up himself, planting his
massive paws on my shoulders and
knocking me down!
I actually got out of the chair last week
and danced to Bruno Mars. I had no idea
who Bruno Mars was, but his music
compelled me to move. At least, I know
I can still make dancing happen ... as
long as I'm alone in my living room.
40 | Cooperative Living | January 2018
I like to think that I was once one
of the world's fastest walkers. Never a
runner, mind you, but I'm rather low to
the ground, and was capable of zipping
about with the swiftest of them. Now, I'm
grateful to simply plod along on a wooded
lane. I am surely breaking no records,
at my aged pace. But: I am out
there! I can even work up a
faint sweat, if I don't
mind collapsing once I
get back in the car.
Another pastime
I used to take
great pleasure in
was driving to
the " big city " -
usually Roanoke
- and shopping.
I could spend all
day in Macy's,
Lowe's, Michaels, TJ
Maxx, you name it. I
could have a great lunch
somewhere. Often I could even fit
in a first-run movie before driving home.
The last time I tried this - sans the
movie - I actually fell asleep at the wheel.
In broad daylight. Only the grace of
God kept me from careening off the
mountainside. I've been afraid to drive to
Roanoke ever since. I've convinced myself
there is not another single thing I need.
One night recently,
there was a tribute to the
Bee Gees on TV. Oh. My. Stars.
I couldn't stop dancing, right
there in my living room. Some
sort of magic overcame me,
and I felt 25 again. Oh, it
was exciting!
I have now become the one who
whines, " Oh, I don't like to drive at night. "
This statement used to perplex me when
older ladies uttered it. Now, I know
exactly what they're talking about. Shoot
- I don't even consider going to Virginia
Beach any longer, because I can't make
that five-hour drive in one day. Who
knew this would happen?
Now, it seems the only
time I get out of town is
when I have a doctor's
appointment. Even
then, I imagine
I will stop at a
fabulous big
grocery store, have
a leisurely lunch
somewhere, and
so forth. Yet, once
I walk out of the
medical building,
I discard those fantasies
and hit the road back home.
Where did all that youthful energy
go? Gone with the wind, baby.
In my youth, I spent a lot of time
I actually got out of the chair
last week and danced to
Bruno Mars. I had no idea who
Bruno Mars was, but his music
compelled me to move.
reading. And I am very thrilled that I still
do that, more so than ever. I can often
breeze through a book in a day, if no one
bugs me.
So, here's what I'm left with: Reading
a lot (thank heavens for libraries, because
I've also learned the true meaning of
" fixed income " ) and trudging along a
wooded road. I'm quite content with my
abbreviated list of hobbies.
As they say, it's hell to get older. But, it
sure beats the alternative! 
To read more of Margo's columns, order
" A Party of One. " Call 540-468-2147
from 9-5, Monday-Thursday, or email:
recorder@htcnet.org.
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Cooperative Living January 2018

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