Senior Moments by
Charles P. Eberson
It has happened. I do not quite know how it happened and in fact, I was taken quite by surprise. I just turned 70 years old. I was barely comfortable with being “middle aged” when the AARP mailers started arriving but now I am firmly ensconced in life as a “senior citizen.” I do not think any milestone birthdays motivate an assessment of one’s life as the 70th does. Perhaps on the 80th but I’ll have to get back to you on that. Me reaching 70 years of age is not a life which warrants a best selling autobiography or specialty notoriety but there have been some interesting times. My grandfather put my mother, my aunt and me as an infant on a rust bucket of a freighter to sail from England to New York. There were no other means available and “he knew a guy.” I spent the trip in a wooden crate cushioned with blankets for two weeks. As I got a little older, I sailed on the Queen Mary and SS United States. My mother had me in a harness with a leash when we were on deck for fear of me climbing overboard. My father bought a house in Northeast Philadelphia without my mother seeing it when I was still a youngster. One night she awoke with the house shaking. One look outside the bedroom window revealed a freight train racing by. The house was sitting just a few yards from the tracks. We only lived there a short time. My mother would later admit that she had visions of me playing on the tracks, something I eventually did when we went back to visit neighbors. We moved to Ventnor when I was 8 years old. Not long after the move, instead of coming right home like I was always told, I left school to meet some friends and walked out in front of a moving car. I guess my mother did not have a leash long enough. After three days in the hospital, I was released only to be grounded when we got home. At 9 years of age we moved to Margate and the years rolled on as did the mishaps; a motorcycle accident leaving me on crutches and a totaled car on the Garden State Parkway from which I miraculously walked away only to be subjected to my father’s wrath. I have rowed competitively in locations from Florida to Canada and instilled the love of the sport in my son and daughter. I am an award winning and published photographer which has served me well during challenging times. Still, my family enjoys telling of my mishaps, too many to list here, to the point of suggesting we publish a children’s book entitled, “Poor Chuck.” The book would be packed with lessons for children to make wiser choices than I have made. I have dodged the usual pitfalls that can end a life prematurely but have witnessed friends who have not been so fortunate. Some things that I thought were so important have been replaced by the more meaningful. I am less concerned with what people think of my opinion and sometimes, to my wife’s chagrin impose it on the unsuspecting with little regard of the consequences. All in all, a few indiscretions aside, I am grateful for the past 70 years. I have been happily married for 42 years to someone who did not know what she was getting into, I have a wonderful son and daughter and three adorable grandchildren. My wife and I recently concluded a nine week, 9100 mile camping trip throughout Wyoming, Montana and Utah among other locations. The common thread we heard from other travelers of similar age is, “we are doing it while we still can.” So, my message to you my reader, is to do it, whatever it is while you still can.
Charles Eberson has been in the newspaper business for over 25 years. He has worked as a writer, advertising executive, circulation manager and photographer. His photography can be viewed at charles-eberson.fineartamerica.com
