A friend of mine recently told me that the archery hunting season for deer had already begun in the zone in which I live. I challenged him on that because I had seen an article in a magazine that said otherwise. We argued briefly about it, and then I asked him if he would like to bet dinner on it. In there is a tradition whereby vast numbers of people, (who are otherwise smart and sane), actually eat mullet. My friend absolutely loves to eat mullet, and he knows that I would not eat one for love or money.
He was so confident of winning the bet that he wanted to bet a mullet dinner on it, (in which I would have to participate in eating mullet too). I have used mullet for fish bait more than once. They are similar to a carp yet a saltwater species. Like the nasty carp they love to nose around in the mud too. In fact I spot them by their mud swirls when I am cast netting for bait; I see a big swirl of mud in the otherwise clear blue water where a school of these nasty critters are stirring up the bottom looking for whatever it is that they eat off the bottom. (I refer to them as crap-eaters.) I approach the mud swirl and throw my net right over it and then haul in a dozen or so of them. I’m then ready to go Tarpon fishing as fresh mullet are a tremendous bait for the mighty Tarpon.
I felt strongly that I was right about the deer season, but considering even a remote chance that I might be wrong and be forced into eating a nasty mullet for dinner, I declined to bet. I’m exceedingly glad I did, because later I went to the store and got a book that contained the regulations and sure enough my friend was right and I had to call him and eat crow, (eating crow did not taste all that bad, and in fact, I am sure it was not as bad as eating mullet). I must admit I was absolutely convinced that I was right. I am dead certain that I read that my county was in another zone, and in fact I distinctly remember reading it and re-reading it. Now either I am getting old and cannot remember zip, or whatever I read was entirely wrong. This issue creeps me out because normally my memory is extraordinary. Could it be that old age is doing me in? Sigh.
I do not like getting old one tiny bit. There is no such thing as getting old gracefully; that is just another lie perpetuated by some youngster somewhere who has not experienced it. It is a pain in the you know what to grow old and there is nothing graceful about that. I cannot see very well; I get tired way too easy; my reflexes are slowing down; I am not as strong as I once was; I cannot hear squat; my hair is grey and my face is wrinkled, and now I cannot even remember something I read. Gr-r-r-r-r-r that makes me mad. Ah but it is like getting mad because it is raining, it is useless.
I look forward to moving into my new “glorified” body one fine day when I enter those pearly gates and stroll down those streets of gold. How nice it will be to have a body in perfect working order that will never wear out or deteriorate. It is hard to imagine an existence of perfection with no sickness, suffering, sorrow, or pain; is it not? My vision will be perfect as will be my hearing. (Hmmm feigning not being able to hear is one of my favorite ploys when my wife is nagging me to do something aside from sitting on the couch; I thought heaven was paradise Oh well I am sure God has thought of that too. The Bible assures us that God will never forsake us, (even when we get old). Now that should make everyone’s day a little brighter, especially all of you that are certified blue hairs out there.
Psalm 37:25
I have been young and now
am old;
Yet I have not seen the
righteous forsaken.