No longer a "strapping young man"

Last week we got a last-minute phone call from Sue A. down in Massachusetts asking us if we were going to the Lowell Sportsman's Club's "Spring Fling Field Day and Spaghetti Supper" as we always do. We got about 12 hours notice, so we set aobut scrambling to come up with a plan to make it happen. I checked around to find a last-minute dog sitter, but had no luck, so I chased the ducks out of the old duck pen and set up a couple of cattle panels to create a 20' x 20' dog pen, so Buster Dog would be safe for the day while we went to Lowell.

To keep a long story short, we made the two hour trip, had fun seeing old friends, won some door prizes (including a Big Mouth Billy Bass LOL), beat Doc Duggan in the .22 rifle shoot for the second year in a row, and ate my allotment of pasta. The traumatizing part of the event came when we were all done with dinner and it was time to put the folding chairs and tables away.

A guy whom I didn't know came up to me as I was flipping the table over to fold and said "Sir, you don't have to do that, we have a group of strapping young men to put things away".

I was shocked.

Not so much that the guy didn't know me. I hadn't been around the club all winter. It was the implication that I wasn't one of the "strapping young men" who tore down the tables and chairs.

I looked in the mirror and saw a grey haired guy. Sure, it was long grey hair that I heppened to think looks pretty cool, but I guess he is right, I am no longer one of the "strapping young men".

Maybe it's not as bad as it seems, but I felt pretty silly as a kid took the table out from in front of me to put it away.

We got home around 1AM. Buster met us in the driveway. Apparantly, a 4' cattle panel can keep a bull in, but not a pit bull. Back to the old drawing board... Maybe this old guy just needs some "strapping young men" to build a better fence.