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Sunday, February 9, 2014

Sixteen Tons

I'm in my fortieth year of working. My body can't do it, but my mind still remembers carrying two sheets of plywood across a bridge with ease. That, and drinking like a sailor half the night, getting up early and putting in 10 hours in a blazing sun.

I was ten feet tall and bulletproof back then. Not any longer; age has given me the wisdom to know the disaster that befalls such foolishness over time.

So, here's a song for the working man.


2 comments:

  1. If I tried to work like I did when I was young, it would kill me off for sure. If I knew then what I know now, it is likely I wouldn't have put this body through so much abuse. Like my Dad said, "Too soon old - too late smart."

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    Replies
    1. We're our worst enemies. Still, I'd rather be a little worn, than completely out of shape.

      Considering my age, my weight, and what I can still do, my doctor hasn't any complaints. That's a good thing.

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