T. GAMBLE: Life is lived in stages

I’ve reached the age where if I were to die, regardless of circumstances, no one would categorize the death as tragic. At a certain age, people just say, “Oh well, he lived a good life.” I could be hit by a tractor trailer big rig, traveling 120 miles an hour with the driver smoking crack cocaine and folks would say, “Oh well, he lived a good life.” It’s just the way life is.

For maybe the first 25 years of life, everybody is good-looking. I call this the Good-Looking Stage. Now, you may not actually be good-looking, but somebody will claim you are during this phase of life. Your mama will say how handsome or pretty you are. Aunt Becky will brag about how great you looked dressed to go to the prom. Some fool around your age will be smitten and think you are good-looking, even if you are 6-foot-1 tall, weigh 120 pounds and your face looks like a bomb blew up on it. Life is full of vigor and radiance.

Before long, however, things change. Maybe around 45 or so people may still say you are good-looking but with dreaded qualifiers. I call this the Good-Looking, But … stage. You know, “ She’s good looking still, for her age.” Women hate to be told “for her age.” That is right up there with “She doesn’t sweat much for a fat girl.” Nobody feels complimented with the “for her age” tag line, but people keep saying it. Being told you look good for your age is like being a used Volkswagen in great shape sitting in a new Mercedes Benz parking lot. “That car right there looks great, for a Volkswagen.”

But then things take a worse turn as nobody says you are good-looking anymore. I call this the Getting Around Good Stage. Now they say things like “I saw T. Gamble the other day; he gets around good for his age.“ It is hard to be flattered when the best compliment you can muster is the fact you are still somewhat ambulatory. What’s even worse as this type of comment is usually said as if the speaker is genuinely surprised you are still able to move at all.

Unfortunately, it does not end there. The next stage is the, Still Has His Mind Stage. You know, “I saw T. Gamble the other day, and he seems to still have his mind.” Well, my my, isn’t that nice and comforting? I’m not sure anyone can actually say I still have my mind, but I do think I have remnants of it still floating around inside my skull somewhere.

Like the United Negro College Fund says, a mind is a terrible thing to waste. The mear fact someone feels it necessary to declare you seem to still have your mind suggests there is some concern that maybe you really don’t. I mean I rarely see a 20-year-old and then tell someone later I saw the 20-year-old and he seems to still have his mind.

The final stage comes when reports of you being sighted in public are followed by this comment, “Really? I didn’t know he was still alive.” I call that I’m Still Here Stage. I don’t think I’m at the I’m Still Here Stage quite yet. I may just be in the Getting Around Good stage. Every time I have a new pain, I worry that before long I won’t be getting around good and they will move to discussing my mental state. I don’t want that to occur, so I guess I better start working out a little more. We don’t want to enter the Still Has His Mind stage just yet. I’ll just continue getting around good, reflecting back on my Looking Good For His Age stage.