Senescent Sun
Diet and Dance to a lighter life
By Rick Van Weelden
58yo
Since my recent hospitalizations, my wife and I have been on a strict no sugar, no white bread,
no white potato, and no white rice diet.
It takes a little getting used to, but it is doing something at a very basic level: We seem to be
getting younger—especially my wife.
She has been bouncing around like a teenager lately and last night, after completing our
income taxes, she suggested we dance to cheer ourselves up. She is 60yo; I’m 58yo (She loves
it when I point that out.)
Her throat rasping melodically in her best Chubby Checker, she sang, “Let’s do the Twist.”
The imitation caused me to wonder if she was over medicated tonight.
It’s either that or go shopping,” she said.
She had struck me in my most vulnerable area--the wallet. I had to say something quick.
“I can twist;” I assured her, “it is getting untwisted that worries me. But if it will keep you from
going shopping to cheer yourself up, I’ll give it a try.”
Well, we twisted and waltzed, and my heart began beating and before I knew it, I not only had
my twenty minutes of daily exercise, but my wife and I were having a great time.
Laughing, we plopped on the couch in exhaustion, I turned to the love of my life and said,
“That was fun. I guess you won’t be needing any money to cheer yourself up now.
“No, not to cheer up, but I’m going to need dancing shoes,” she said as she grabbed her
purse. “I’ll see you in an hour or two; don’t break the diet while I’m gone.
“Until someone untwists my back I won’t even be able to walk to the kitchen. I’m completely at
your mercy” I cried as she closed the door.
“Are there no end to the benefits of this diet,” she sang out just before she and her ‘Chevy’
rocked and rolled off to ‘Brookfield Square.’
By Rick Van Weelden
58yo
Since my recent hospitalizations, my wife and I have been on a strict no sugar, no white bread,
no white potato, and no white rice diet.
It takes a little getting used to, but it is doing something at a very basic level: We seem to be
getting younger—especially my wife.
She has been bouncing around like a teenager lately and last night, after completing our
income taxes, she suggested we dance to cheer ourselves up. She is 60yo; I’m 58yo (She loves
it when I point that out.)
Her throat rasping melodically in her best Chubby Checker, she sang, “Let’s do the Twist.”
The imitation caused me to wonder if she was over medicated tonight.
It’s either that or go shopping,” she said.
She had struck me in my most vulnerable area--the wallet. I had to say something quick.
“I can twist;” I assured her, “it is getting untwisted that worries me. But if it will keep you from
going shopping to cheer yourself up, I’ll give it a try.”
Well, we twisted and waltzed, and my heart began beating and before I knew it, I not only had
my twenty minutes of daily exercise, but my wife and I were having a great time.
Laughing, we plopped on the couch in exhaustion, I turned to the love of my life and said,
“That was fun. I guess you won’t be needing any money to cheer yourself up now.
“No, not to cheer up, but I’m going to need dancing shoes,” she said as she grabbed her
purse. “I’ll see you in an hour or two; don’t break the diet while I’m gone.
“Until someone untwists my back I won’t even be able to walk to the kitchen. I’m completely at
your mercy” I cried as she closed the door.
“Are there no end to the benefits of this diet,” she sang out just before she and her ‘Chevy’
rocked and rolled off to ‘Brookfield Square.’