I generally treat March 1st as the official bananniversary of my hanging those too-green-for-words bananas out on our garage, but truth be told is was actually some time in late February, so March 1st is just an approximation.
I’m not going to jump through all the hoops necessary just to submit these bananas for consideration by The Guinness Book of World Records. You can if you want.
Of course you’ve heard the expression “tough bananas”? It’s generally used in response to a trivial, whiny complaint, viz: “Darn! I just chipped a nail!” “Tough bananas.” he replied.
And then there’s the like expressions: “Hang in there, kid!” or “Just hang on!” or even – he’s “hanging tough”. So, surprisingly, not only are these tough bananas, they’ve been hanging tough for the past five years; but then, so have I.
This morning I woke up with all the usual aches and pains of a man of my advanced age (I’m 66). As much as some people join themselves to The Cult of Youth or fruitlessly seek Magic Beans washed down at The Fountain of Youth to cure their illnesses and struggle daily against the ravages of old age you just can’t stop the hands of time.
You know what God has to say about growing old?