Suddenly Old

There have been little hints and warnings for a while now, if truth be told. When they’re little they’re easier to forget, easier to pass off as flukes or as misinterpretation. Not this time, however.

About three weeks ago there appeared a nice pile of freshly dug dirt and rocks just up the highway from me. There had been utility workers in the area putting in more fiber optic lines, so I assumed it was for that. I drove past the pile every day, sometimes twice, thinking I could use some nice square rocks like that. I didn’t have any way to get the pile or any of the rocks home, so I gave up on the idea.

After the pile had been there for a week, I went down the driveway one afternoon to see a small dump truck sitting near the highway I share with neighbors. I pulled up alongside. I thought to myself, Wow. There’s another nice load of dirt and rocks. I wonder what they’re going to do with that? I stopped and got out, looking down the road to a utility worker walking my way up the hill.

“Afternoon,” I began. “I was wondering what you’re going to do with that load of rocks and dirt?”

“I usually take it back to the main garage down in Bedford.”

“That’s quite a ways. I don’t suppose you’d like to just get rid of it here?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to ask my boss.”

“Okay. I’m in no hurry.” He walks toward the other utility worker and mutters something I can’t hear. He comes back to me and as he does he pulls out a cell phone.

“I’m going to call the boss right now.” He stands three or four feet away from me while the number rings 40 miles away. Someone answered, then I got the news.

“Yeah, hey, there’s an old guy here who wants to know if we can dump this load of dirt and rocks on his place. He says it’s close by. Okay. Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

He smiles at me. “Yeah. He says it’s fine.” His coworker has walked back up the hill now and they both prepare to get in the truck. I told them to follow me down the hill and I’ll show them where to dump the load. Then I decided to have a little fun.

“One more question, though,” I said, then paused. I looked right at him, bumping his arm casually, as I said, “where’s the old guy?”

His eyes widened and he stammered a bit. “Oh, uh, I just, uh, meant that you were older than me, older than the the two of us! Uh, I didn’t mean that . . .” I saved him then.

“Ah. Just checking.” I couldn’t keep from laughing out loud to let him off the hook. “No problem. Just giving you a bad time!” I kept laughing. “It’s all good!”

They were both very courteous as they followed me to the drop zone and put the load exactly where I asked them.

I sang their praises as they worked on my behalf and waved them off on their way home with an empty truck. I had my excellent pile of rocks at no charge. I like that.

So in this way I received notice that I’m an “old guy” and there’s nothing I can do about it. I thought the whole thing was really funny. For some time now I have wondered when this day might come, and I’m glad that it’s over.

I may be an official Old Guy, but I can still get a job about anywhere, I can make change, and I know things, like when Antietam was, or Shiloh, or VE Day, or Pearl Harbor. Getting a little more ancient has its rewards. Now if I could just find that list I made of what I’m supposed to do today! Until I find it, maybe I could move some rocks!

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