The Old Guy and The Ocean

Hemingway defined Old Men and their relationship with The Sea in his classic example of his tersely written genre that managed to incorporate those two powerful metaphors in one title.

Old men and water simply fit together, which makes me wonder if “The Old Man and The Ocean” wouldn’t have been a better alliterative alternative. You get two “O”s in that one.

But few Old Guys like me have a chance to wrestle a 16 foot marlin in the Gulf Stream. You’ve got to go to Florida, charter a boat, rub sunscreen on balding heads and cancer-prone noses. You know, do the macho deal.

But anyone can buy the hat!

I bought the beauty pictured above for $5 at an auction to help our church youth. It was all I could find that I wanted although I couldn’t really convince myself I needed it. But, it’s so obviously an Old Man’s Hat I figured I could find a use for it this week on our family Florida vacation.

The hat and I went for our maiden voyage this morning and it was glorious! I tucked my age-blonded hair up under and tried to keep up with my grandson, wife, and my wife’s aunt in the dash to touch the lifeguard’s stand. I was struggling because I made the goal last night barefoot with the grandson & granddaughter pacing me at a high rate of speed. I managed to sandblast blisters on my feet. But I touched the lifeguard stand both times though the hat and I arrived back at the house limping alone.

So I’ve got four miles logged to my new exercise routine. If I had a Fitbit to keep track I could be digitally proud, but I don’t so I’ll have to go the old fashioned way. I’ll keep count in my head and feet.

So it’s not a Marlin Ernie. In the words of one of your Marlboro Man protagonists…”Tough”.

Hemingway’s novel is about aging and loneliness. This Old Guy can commiserate and curse the aging but count myself lucky to not have to struggle with alienation. I don’t have to rent a rowboat and head out in the Gulf Stream because I’ve got grandchildren who are growing up so fast I can’t keep up with them for the long term. But for two miles round trip, to the lifeguard station and back, I can hang. I’m there even if it means sandblasted blisters that are likely to plague me this week on the Golf Course and Disney.

Old Guys can be happy as the limp is proof we’re alive.