In less than six months lies the quicksand of undisputed senior citizenship. Sixty- five years old. No one can deny you a discount once this age is attained. Which leaves me with the question.

What the hell is going on here ?

I once read something by a well-known book reviewer in the Toronto Star who has since died. Or to use today’s description – passed. Anyway, he wrote that well-lived lives were as rare as hen’s teeth. I remember thinking to myself… that’s a bit harsh. That was more than thirty years ago, when most people who were ‘passing’ had had their first car ride in a Model T Ford.

Now I look around me and think, “Everyone in the prime of life take one step forward.”

Not so fast, Perras.

I know Mick Jagger told Ruby Tuesday that if she loses her dreams then she would lose her life. But these days I don’t have dreams as much as memories and reminisces. Like the one in 1977 when I was a landscaper in the summer and I drove around an older Danish tradesman in a half- ton truck and what we did a lot of was lay interlocking brick for all kinds of patios. He knew what he was doing, I did the grunt work. His name was Robert and I don’t remember much of what we talked about that summer, but I do remember him telling me how he felt unappreciated and underpaid by our company employers and his line that ,”You’ll only hear someone saying anything good about you when they are patting your belly with a shovel.”

Well, I remember thinking, they always say those Scandinavian types have a dark side and a high rate of suicide. You know, all those long dark winter nights which leads to too much time with the bottle and all that.

Now I think… what a wise man. I think that Robert’s belly has since been patted down by a shovel but he lives on in a memorable way, in my mind at least.

So I trundle along not expecting to get much in the way of appreciation and getting less than that, frankly. But if this mortal coil is only what we make it, this darker side of life can make for much comic relief. No wonder in North America, at least, some of our greatest comedians have been Jews and Blacks, two groups who have been often forced to the periphery of society. Humour has been their elixir. And in the humour of the universe, appreciation seems to be hardest to come by in those closest to us – family.

At the end of this past summer I asked the youngest of my brood, my daughter, who was entering her final year of university why she seemed to spend so much time at her friend’s house instead of being happy in the comfort of the bosom of her family.

“Well, they have air-conditioning and a swimming pool to start with.”

Uh, okay.

And the father there is very nice. At least he’s always doing stuff for his kids. Like their chores and stuff. And he’s always bringing them stuff from the grocery store. Good stuff- like chips and chocolate bars.”

Not to be outdone, I said, “I bring back stuff from the grocery store.”

“Yeah… almonds, fig newtons and cheap steak.”

What could I say. My parents, raised in the Depression, had left their stamp on me. Ever since I was on my own my favourite supper was cheap steak and frozen peas. If I was still hungry then I’d have some fig newtons. And if I really went wild I bought some date squares.

So how can anyone deny that mine has not been a life well-lived ?