[Artemisia] OT OOP On feeling OLD

[Georgia Foster]

Given that everyone on several of the lists I monitor seems to be discussing the evidence at hand that we are getting through the life process ... here is but one of the experiences that have recently given me pause to consider my antiquity.

Many years ago I was introduced to the art of rock climbing.  It is fun, requires some level of skill and no small amount of personal daring.  I was instantly hooked (kind of like a LOT of heavy weapons fighters will tell you happened to them their first go out).  As time and childbearing and childrearing progressed I did not have financial wherewithal to maintain my interest in the sport (note a correlation to SCA combat here too?).  A few years back, when gainful employment had solved a few of the financial issues I decided it was time to introduce my children to the way-to-cool-for-words experience.  Most of the gear I used to use was still serviceable, needing only a few pieces to get started up again.  Off to the mountaineering store we go.  It is the same shop where I purchased my string initially those many years ago.  I ask the child behind the counter if the story carries Chinnard modified D locking 'beeners'.  The slip of a boy tilts his head slightly and looks at me like I have lost my mind.  HMN ... perhaps he did not understand.  OK, so perhaps they don't call them that anymore, perhaps I if I showed him what I was looking for I might be able to get something  ... I go out to the truck and get one to show him.  He shows it all the reverence of a holy relic and calls his supervisor over.  The supervisor asks if I am there to sell it.  NO, I am here to get more of it ... where can I get more of them, or something very like them.  The supervisor leads me over to the museum area of the shop.  There, lovingly displayed in glass cases are all of the toys of the game that I have in the duffle bag in my truck.  My harness, my rope, my climbing shoes, my modified Ds, my bell wedges, my saddle wedges, even my chalk bag, all lovingly displayed with little cards next to them explaining in ten words or less what they were and what they were used for.

Several months later I had occasion to visit Sir Thomas and his family in Lander Wyoming.  Lander is a place dedicated to outdoor recreation of all varieties.  We decide to take dinner together at an establishment along the main street.  We order and sit down.  Then ... I look up.  There on the walls, high above where the curious hand can reach, not only do they have copies of my climbing kit, but also my cross-country skiing equipment, and my backpacking outfit, all lovingly hung as decoration, showing the the children who currently play with the modern decedents of their current equipment and toys looked like.  As Sir Thomas may attest ... I was so sad.

"I am OLD Peter ... ever so much more than twenty" (Hook)


Cheers

 


Jo (Georgia L.) Foster

Never knock on Death's door.
Ring the doorbell and run ... he hates that.