The Geezer Monster - Episode 4

 

Sockless at the Range

Those of us who have traveled far enough down our path through the garden of life to be promoted to the rank of Geezeer have been endowed with various skills, as well as a few disabilities. We’ve achieved this status, not by surpassing any of the achievements of our peers, but by merely surviving the many instances of our own stupidity and the curve balls life throws at everyone from time to time. A few of us arrive at our “graduation ceremony” completely unscathed, sporting the minds and bodies of whippersnappers despite our chronology. Most, however, carry a few battle scars, some of which are the result of a life well-lived while others are simply the result of normal wear and tear.

Lots of normal bodily functions don’t work as well for Geezers as they do for whippersnappers. Fortunately, medical science has developed the equivalent of a software patch for many of our disabilities - the “little blue pill” comes to mind - but not everything we suffer can be controlled by a trip to CVS or a quick “snip ‘n stitch” in the outpatient surgery. We simply have to find a work-around for the mild-to-moderate bodily function failures we can’t get repaired. Unfortunately, The Geezer Monster is very adept at recognizing the deficiencies in each of us and uses them as “soft targets” to make easy his job of malevolence. The Monster is superbly adept at hacking our software patches.

This morning I was managing a minor - at the time - gastroenterology malfunction which had scheduled itself to be in conflict with my departure time for an important engagement. Clearly, the issue could not be overlooked and any attempt to delay dealing with it would likely have embarrassing adverse consequences later in the day. We Geezers have learned that this kind of thing must be dealt with immediately. “Damn the torpedos, full speed ahead” is not only foolhardy but has the very real possibility of permanent social ex-communication. So, “I’ll be a few minutes late. Go ahead and start without me.” goes out over the cell phone network.

Now, arriving late is a major faux pas for folks in our generation. Our rule is “Early is on time, on time is late, and late is inexcusable!”  “No excuse, Sir.” Not that any of the other guys would make a big deal out of it, or even acknowledge the blunder in etiquette, but showing up late is a distraction of not insignificant magnitude for the offender. The gaffe causes serious, if not indelible, confusion for some period of time, and The Geezer Monster knows this.

My comrades did not belittle me nor even mention my tardiness but my set-up activities at the session were somewhat erratic due to a tardiness-induced loss of focus. I could feel their eyes upon me as I struggled to make my actions seem nonchalant. With some extra effort, I got my gear unpacked and placed in locations appropriate for my intended activities. I began to prepare for today’s exercises when one of the guys reminded me to anoint myself with insect repellant, as we do every time to prevent tick bites. It is a well-known fact that Covid, Monkeypox, and Male pregnancy can be transmitted by the bite of the notorious Alabama Brown Recluse.

One of the accouterments I bring to every one of these meetings, along with insect repellant, drinking water, band-aids, and sunscreen is a spray bottle of herbicide I use to combat the crop of poison ivy that adorns our meeting venue. The concoction I use is a homemade solution of a chemical outlawed by the World Health Organization (WHO) several years ago when it found that the active ingredient was instantly lethal to humans in even minuscule amounts. It works much better on poison ivy than any of the newfangled stuff, though, and I got some of the concentrate free from a retired railroad worker. A little extra care when mixing and applying it seems a fair trade-off for its excellent efficacy and dramatic cost savings.

As you may have guessed by now, The Geezer Monster was lurking at my side this morning, and took advantage of my distracted demeanor to place the bottle of herbicide into my hand when I reached for the insect repellant.  Never mind that the bottles are significantly different in size, shape, and color. By the time I noticed his egregious sleight of hand, I had anointed my left ankle with a stout dose of the WHO-banned weapon of mass destruction. The thought of just saying “Oops” and pressing on with my duties crossed my mind (I don’t think the other guys saw my mistake) but the word “lethal” then came to mind and discretion became the better part of valor. 

I sat down and removed the sock from my left foot, doused the ankle with a bit of drinking water, wiped it off with a paper towel, and replaced the boot. I soon found that having one sock on and one sock off added to my overall state of distraction so I removed the right sock as well. Going completely sockless, even in high-top boots (The Full Monte of the Phalanges) is less distracting than “Lopsided Nude Foot Syndrome. Since I’m alive to tell the story, the WHO either over-estimated the efficacy of this particular chemical (Surprise, Surprise!) or I got my socks off just in time.

Walking around in work boots with no socks is not the worst thing ever to happen to a person of my advanced age but the abnormal feeling of leather rubbing on superannuated epidermis is not easily ignored. I had important matters to address in today’s session that simply could not be adequately evaluated while enduring the humiliation of tardiness combined with the unnatural feeling in my lower extremities. I was sure that The Geezer Monster was reveling in the satisfaction of having demolished my state of well-being. The picture I had in my mind’s eye of that little devil giggling at my discomfort caused me massive mental anguish. Chalk up a big win today for the Monster.

Due to a rare moment of lucid thought, I avoided a terrible social mortification later in the day by promptly addressing my gastric problem even though the tardiness it promulgated led to a distraction with serious consequences. My handgun accuracy was severely diminished, which I attribute to the fact that I was shooting sockless: a well-known marksmanship handicap. I shall now have to pack an extra pair of socks in my accessory kit, just in case something like this happens again to me or one of my comrades. My friends have assured me that She Who Must Be Obeyed (SWMBO) will not hear of the incident, lest she demands my immediate transport to WHO’s Geneva Sanitorium for Toxic Chemical Prevarications.

The Geezer Monster has struck again! This time, even in retrospect, I can think of no defense to prevent or deflect this kind of attack. Sometimes the confluence of events simply lines up in his favor and the wicked little leprechaun is quick enough to take advantage of the situation. Fortunately, Geezers are tough and resilient enough to survive and fight another day.

Find the next episode HERE