Hunker Down with Kes: News Not As Good As Doc Proclaimed

Here is a story that tickles me, and saddens me a bit at the same time. If you are a mature reader, you may relate to it more than you care to admit…

It started with a bad hip. Mine, of course. I spent the summer recuperating from replacement surgery. Thankfully, it all went well. I am doing great and walking around pain free. My three-month checkup was this past week.

The orthopedic surgeon was pleased with the progress. As a matter of fact, he told me I didn’t need to come back. “Kesley, you can do everything you want to do.”

It was good news for sure. I shook his hand, hugged his neck, and thanked him for changing my life for the better. But on the way home I got to seriously pondering on that “everything you want to do” part.

And I began to swell up with ideas!

What I “want to do” is stand on that high ridge beside George Sexton’s house just one more time, get a running start like we did when we were kids, and sprint the 40 yards down to the big ditch at the bottom, and take a flying leap that will carry me safely to the other side.

I never did make it as a kid. My legs were too short and the ditch was soooo wide. None of us did. I’ve seen Buddy Wiggleton crash face-first into the far bank, and slide hopelessly to the bottom. Yogi, who was pretty quick and light enough to fly, never came close. It was seemingly impossible. 

But I’m older now. And I’ve got a new, bionic hip. And I have the assurance that I can do “everything I want to.” Wow! And I am going back there at the end of the month for my high school Homecoming. I won’t have to practice. I have been cleared by a doctor!

And while I am back home, I’m going to look up Vicki Fields. She used to outrun me every day at recess in elementary school. I am about to demand a do-over!

Y’all have no idea how much my older brother used to push me around. He’d make me mow the yard. I had to milk “my” cows, and his, too. He’d practiced rabbit hunting by making me run across the backyard while he fired BBs at my blue jeans.

Of course, Leon turned out to be the greatest big brother in the whole world. I have documented that over and over. But just one time, even if it’s only in my mind, I “want to” be the one holding the BB gun.

Years ago, I near ’bout got killed trying to ride a bull at a small rodeo between Georgiana and Andalusia, Alabama. I was in college and fairly fit back in those days. But the bull’s first move was sideways, into the chute, crushing my leg immediately. I leaned over to check the damage, and he left the chute without me!

I have been embarrassed by that humiliating episode for years.

Well, guess what? I’ve got a new hip and I can now do “everything I want to.” I am trying to get a hold of my friend in Georgiana to find out when that rodeo starts. I’m fixing to show them I’m not the cardboard cowboy they laughed at five decades ago.

I am also buying a guitar and planning a road tour. I “want to” sing like a combination of George Jones, Chuck Berry, Marty Robbins, and Jerry Lee Lewis. I figure to be putting out records in the next few weeks. I will be on the Grand Ole Opry. American Bandstand. The Oprah Winfrey Show. Keep an eye out for me coming soon to a town near you.

I have never “wanted to” climb Mount Everest. But you know, they make little mountains, too.

I could go on about flying to the moon, riding the big waves off the North Shore of O’ahu, jumping the Snake River on a motorcycle….

But you get the idea. The possibilities are endless. For a guy who can “do everything he wants to.” The rub is, of course, the well-meaning Doc maybe overestimated my wellness, or perhaps underestimated my age.

Or more than likely, he did both. A nominal dose of stark reality tells us age, ability, ambition, opportunity, health, and plain common sense are all relative. Our intelligent “want to” is found amidst the mix of all of them. And for sure your spouse (at least, mine does) will have a say in the matter. 

It brings most of us back to earth. And that is not a bad thing. We need to live according to where we are in life, and understand that each stage has its limitations. I am happy and absolutely fine doing just that.

But I do have a heads up to the people living on Garrison Avenue, 10th Street, and along the walking path through town. You might not recognize me speeding by, but don’t be alarmed, I’m just training for the Boston Marathon…

Respectfully,

Kes

kesley45@aol.com