I guess it's time to confess to something very un-macho: I
sometimes wear knee pads when I work in the garden.
My children gave them to me for Christmas and I initially
resisted the notion of wearing them. Unmanly and not cool, I thought.
But my children also gave me two large bunches of red onion
plants, and by the time I had a fourth of them planted, my knees were
rebelling against my male vanity. Out came the new knee pads and voila!
Sudden comfort! Rebellion over! With my new protection in place, I had the
rest of the onions in the ground in no time.
Un-macho? Without a doubt.
One of the nice things about being almost 65 is that I no
longer worry what other people think of me. People who love me will keep on
loving me even with those goofy-looking things strapped around my legs, and
those who don't, don't matter after all.
As my hero Dirty Harry said, a man's got to know his
limitations. One of mine is that I don't have 5-year-old knees any more,
and if I don't take care of the ones I've got, some orthopedic surgeon is
going to cut them out and install some artificial ones in their place.
thanks. I think I'll go with the unmanly, goofy-looking knee pads for as
long as possible. Thanks, children, for looking out for your old man.