I used to do lots of work in nursing homes and retirement homes. If you have yet to visit one of those places, make it a point to do so. The residents are, of course, mostly really old people with years of experience and adventures to share. Most of them have great senses of humor, which is something I always liked a whole lot.

One gal, age 103, a double-amputee, zips up and down the hallways on her wheelchair. She is close to being as blind as a bat, as well. She told me she had a nickname.

"What’s your nickname, kid?"

"Speedy!" is what she told me, "But I may not be quite as fast as I used to be."

"Where'd you get that nickname, Speedy?"

"They talked me into entering the Senior Olympics in the wheelchair race."

"Did you win anything, Speedy?"

"Are you kidding, Gus? No indeed. I came in last."

"Are you going to enter again this year?"

"Gus, have you gone senile on us?"

*****

Three elderly residents were sitting around talking about their various aches, pains, complaints, dislikes, and likes. The first resident mentioned how cold the retirement home was – air conditioned to a blue haze all year around. The second resident agreed that the cold air was a big problem, but suggested that it was the sorry food that rankled even more than having to freeze both day and night. The third resident, after some head scratching, decided that the constant noise from TVs and radios, one to each room, was another top annoyance.

Then, all three began to reminisce about the days just shortly before they moved into the retirement home.

The first resident talked about memory lapses.

"I used to find myself in the middle of the supermarket and be unable to remember why in the world I went there. I couldn’t think of a single thing I needed to buy."

The second resident said, "Well that was a bad memory problem, but my memory problem was a lot worse than that one. I’d find myself standing at the bottom of the stairs, and I'd try to remember if I were supposed to go up the stairs or if I’d just come down ‘em."

The third resident agreed that the others had had bigtime memory problems, all right. However, she maintained that she had never had a memory problem.

Pop, pop, pop!!!

"Knock on wood! I never did have memory problems! Now, who could that be at the door?"

*****

Well, please don’t you Catholics and Methodists take offense at this next retirement home tale. If you become upset by references to religious institutions, you have my permission to substitute any belief or religion you want in place of them. (Be careful, however, to not offend Iranian mullahs because they have a tendency to put you onto a list if you monkey around with their ideas.)

Saddened by the loss of her lifelong pet and companion, Bowser the dog, Mrs. Farmley thought it would be nice and a great consolation to send Bowser on his way to meet the great Dog in the sky via a nice funeral and a sensible burial. She trotted on down to the Catholic Church several blocks away. There, she asked the priest if he would be so kind as to perform a funeral and some burial services for her departed faithful pet dog, Bowser.

"Dear Mrs. Farmley, we do not perform funerals or burial services for dogs" said the priest. "Take the dearly departed hound over to the Methodist church. Perhaps they might help you."

"Oh my," replied Mrs. Farmley, "I was going to donate $20,000 to the church just for helping me send poor Bowser properly on his way,"

"Mrs. Farmley, why didn’t you tell me that Bowser was a good Catholic dog?"

This guy’s last birthday was at least Number 90 if he were even one day old. He declared, "No one is ever again going to shake my hand. It shakes all by itself."

Charlie was one of those grouchy old guys who growled and scowled a whole lot, who scarcely remembered how to smile, and who liked to yell at the nurses and the medical aides. His real specialty in grouchiness was cussing at the other residents. One nice day someone gave him a present, a plaque that he could put up on the wall by his bed. He did so. For the first time in years, Charlie smiled.

His new plaque read, "Old age ain’t for sissies."

And now, a little bit of old age sports history…

There’s scarcely anyone who has not heard of Satchel Paige, that remarkable baseball pitcher who, at the age of 42, won the "Rookie of the Year" award for his first year of pitching in the major leagues. He continued in his baseball-pitching career to the age of 63! Satchel Paige had several things of note to tell the rest of us:

"Never look back. Something might be gaining on you."

"Age is a case of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it don’t matter."

Although www.sampsonvets.com and www.sampsonafb.com are not nursing homes or the like, the members are all in their 70s and would welcome your visits to their Web sites and participation in their Guest Book conversations. You will enjoy your time with them, as they will with their moments with you.