I hear-tell that the 'mellow years' come with retirement. (Note: Grandpa E.V. Bennett used that phrase 'I hear tell' a lot...I'm ticketed to use it here). Those mellow years are supposed to be some kind of reward. It's that time in one's journey when a man can rid his life of competition, frustration, irritation, aggravation and agitation, which would leave me with only constipation.
Mellow years are not a myth. I saw Grandpa E.V. Bennett enjoy those laid-back days playing his fiddle, whittling and wiping his Mercury down twice a day. My paternal grandpa, Frank reached those mellow years after many chemical plant working years and arguing with anybody who'd give him an audience. Unfortunately, a bad heart cut short the mellow.
My own father enjoyed the mellow years only after declining health forced his hand. I can tell you that in his younger days there wasn't much mellow around him. He was not an angry man but he could 'get' angry. Rumor has it that our neighbor directly across the ally North of us always wore a hard hat when working in his back yard to avoid thrown objects from the Roustio yard when Dad got mad or frustrated working at a project...duck Mr. Dial, here comes a wrench!
One of the neat things about mellow years is that people gravitate to the elder statesman with grey hair as they seek his wise advice. Sounds magical to me. I can't wait to be that guy. I'm not stupid. I know the mellow years await me at my beckoning and I have made up my mind that just as soon as people around me appear to be smarter, assume responsibilities, and acknowledge their accountability's, I'm going to drop my guard, dismiss my intense get-it-done personality and 'mellow-out.' Why, I may even leave later on Sunday mornings for church and risk all the good seats in the back be taken.
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Mellow YearsTake It Easy
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