WHEN DID I BECOME THE OLD GUY AT THE TABLE?

Hey readers, all three or four of you, no blog this week. Instead, I’m making some changes in the look of the blog. One thing that you will notice right away is the new dropdown menu under the blog heading. It was pointed out to me that some of you may be reading the baseball blog and have no interest in real estate while others may be reading the real estate blog and have no interest in baseball. The true masochists among you may be reading everything hoping it will get better. The new dropdown will take you to whichever category you are interested in so you can skip all my other bull c***. Right now I’ve got baseball, real estate, and observations, which is where you will find this abbreviated entry for this week.

Since I am 63 years old most of my observations are going to be age related. Just passing along some wisdom from all those years, both good and bad because I have plenty of both mixed in with a healthy measure of bull s***. I was put on this planet in 1958 and have managed not to f*** it up yet, so take that for what it’s worth.

When I was in my 40’s I was a part owner a little machine shop in the San Fernando Valley. We were located in an industrial complex in the city of Sylmar with about two dozen other small businesses. There were two or three of us that got along together and most days during the week would find us having lunch together. We had our choice of a Taco Bell, Colonel Sanders, El Pollo Loco, Subway, McDonald’s, and a Quizno’s all within walking distance. Now I should mention that all of these guys were 10 to 15 years older than I was making me the baby of the group. The great thing about that was, they were eligible for senior discounts at most of these establishments and, since I was in the group, I usually got the senior discount thrown in simply based on proximity.

I eventually sold my interest in the business and the wife and I moved to Bakersfield in 2012. I was no longer in my forties but was now the ripe old age of 54. I had left all my old friends behind and had to get new ones. I’m pretty sociable and making friends has never been a problem. Now there is a new group of us that like to hang out on a regular basis. We usually get together on Saturday evenings to smoke cigars and drink Cabernet. Conversation ranges from the wine we are drinking and cigars we are smoking to politics to music to religion to current events to pop culture and pretty much anything in between. It’s a pretty eclectic group and we enjoy one another’s company. Then, one evening I was looking around the table. I was enjoying a nice little wine and cigar buzz when I realized “hey, I’m the old guy”. WTF! When did that happen? I was always the young buck. That was my role. Now I’m the oldest guy at the table dispensing dubious wisdom.

This just won’t do! Some how, some way, I must have slipped through a crack in the multiverse and ended up in an alternate dimension. That’s the only explanation I can come up with that makes any sense. Now I’m stuck here and I don’t know how to get back so I’m making the best of my situation. Effective immediately I am accepting applications for newcomers to the group. Requirements are you must enjoy a good Cabernet, know your cigars, and most importantly you must be at least 65 and in relatively good health. No point bringing you into the group if you’re just going to drop dead in a year or two. I myself, am planning to live forever so I guess I will have to periodically update this application. I don’t know what the f*** I’m gonna do when I hit 100!