What time is it?

Time is a construct, right? It's something you begin to hear quite a bit when you are surrounded by people of a certain age. And by that I mean the numbers start with a five. Or a six. Or even a seven.

This is in addition to the many conversations about bursitis, gastric reflux and even stool consistency. I know it's not pretty, but there is some consolation in the fact that those of us on the Back Nine of Life, look nothing like our predecessors when they had enjoyed an equal number of trips around the sun.

I thank modern medicine and science -- you know that thing that is abhorred by Red Hats and RFK Jr. -- for this. When my grandparent's gait started to fail and they no doubt had pain in their hips and knees, no one said, "hey, why don't you drop by Montifiore Hospital and get some new titanium implants?"

I don't think titanium had even made it to the Periodic Table of Elements in the 1960's. It was a Rare Earth  element found in Greenland or the remote jungles of Panama back then. Before Trump could set his greedy imperialist eyes on them.

And so my grandparents, maybe yours as well, slowed down, pulled up a chair overlooking the Grand Concourse and smoked three packs of cigarettes, instead of two, while whittling away the rest of their time. They didn't have Fit Bits, treadmills or even Chair Yoga. No wonder their spines started arching into unnatural pretzel-like shapes. 

Since I retired, now going on three years, I have nothing but time on my hands. Or so it would seem. The truth is every minute I have is accounted for. From the moment I wake up until a full day later when I slip under the covers with Anna Greenberg, my favorite Sleep Meditation guide on Peloton. 

Perhaps this rambling was brought on by the recent photo's of my classmates at the 50th High School reunion (see yesterday's post.) Or, more likely because I'm reading a book suggested by my friend and school teacher, Paul.

And yes, I purposely framed the book with the aspirin and the One A Day vitamins, for effect. But if Time is a construct, I'm going to do what I can to slow it down and alter my perception of it and savor every minute. 

It starts with not nuking left over pizza and placing it in an oven until it crisps up are regains its original goodness. I don't care how long it takes, I've got time for that.