Someone asked me yesterday how I’d managed to live so long.

No, not that long!

Only a young person would ask a question like that, thinking it was a compliment; and I’m sure she meant it that way. I actually thought it was rather funny, and as I contemplated my answer, I realized that I had never thought about it before. And my answer was:

By doing pretty much whatever I wanted to do.

I’ve never smoked, but not because of the health hazard; I tried it twice in my teens, and hated it. Plus, it’s a very expensive habit. But lots of other people did, so there was a good bit of second-hand smoke being inhaled.

I didn’t do drugs because they were illegal and I was afraid of being caught. Plus — even more so than cigarettes — there was the cost. But otherwise . . .

Did I drink? Sure. Did I drink and drive? Sorry to say, I did, and the fact that I didn’t kill myself or anyone else is due to just plain dumb luck. And in my younger days, I was hell on wheels, even when sober.

Did I eat red meat? Oh, yeah . . . lots of it. A day without beef was an incomplete day. And fatty foods, spicy foods, all kinds of ethnic foods, without consideration for the grams of fat, sodium, or cholesterol. And dessert? To me, dessert was an essential food group. Every meal ended with something sweet.

Did I get enough sleep? Never! There was too much partying going on to waste my time sleeping. How about staying hydrated? We didn’t think about that when I was younger. Exercise? Every now and then, but it was too much work to keep at it.

I traveled, to countries where food wasn’t always properly stored or refrigerated. I never got sick from the food, or from spending hours in an airplane with people exhaling germs. And antibacterial soaps weren’t readily available. I learned not to worry about it.

And even before young adulthood. When I was a kid, we roller skated, rode bikes, climbed trees . . . and all without helmets. We fell and skinned our knees. So what? A little iodine and a bandaid, and we were back outside. Cars didn’t have seat belts. Kids shared soda bottles and popsicles, exchanging germs without thinking about it. Nobody cared.

And finally, I guess I have good genes. Most of my family members lived long, productive lives. They . . . we . . . have always worked hard, taken care of one another, and lived decent lives (apart from that drinking-and-driving thing).

Let’s face it . . . life’s a crap shoot. You can do all the right things, and still die young; or you can jump out of a plane without a parachute, and survive. (I don’t recommend that, however.) Basically, it’s a matter of luck. And I’ve been pretty lucky . . . so far, anyway.

Thanks to that young lady for asking.

Brendochka
11/28/23