image
Gurney's Inn
media
bulletNight Moves
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
bulletNight Moves
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer
spacer
image
spacer spacer

December 04, 2013
/editorial/recurring/jerryink.jpg
shadow

Jerry's Ink


DRINKING THE GIANTS TO VICTORY


Getting old sucks.

On Sunday night, before the NY Giants-Washington Redskins game, I went out to a Japanese restaurant and I drank two large carafes of sake.

That's when I started to feel my age. Filling and refilling and drinking from those teeny tiny little sake cups at least 30 times can really be tiring.

Then I went home, looked into my refrigerator and spotted a container of wonderful spicy green olives that a friend gave me.

"What goes better with spicy green olives than vodka?" I said.

"Nothing," was my obvious answer, so I picked out my largest martini glass and made myself a giant martini and put seven spicy olives in my glass.

Then I went into my library and turned the Giants game on TV.

Shlomo, my sweet little dog, jumped into my lap as he always does when I watch football.

When I tuned in the Giants were already losing the game 14-0. Talk about a bad start – they were losing 7-0 before the vocalist finished the last line of the "Star-Spangled Banner."

Having lost all hope after last week's Dallas game, I sipped my martini and ate those delicious olives and then the Giants scored. Was there a correlation here? Was my drinking vodka and eating olives with Shlomo on my lap bringing the Giants luck?

Then the Giants scored again.

That confirmed it. My vodka and olives were bringing the Giants luck. At halftime I went downstairs – albeit a little shaky – and made myself an even bigger martini and put 10 spicy olives in the glass.

I drank it down except for a few drops which I accidently spilled on Shlomo's head when Eli Manning threw another interception. I do remember thinking if I dropped vodka on Shlomo's head every time Eli Manning threw an interception this year, Shlomo would probably have to join Doggy AA.

But then the Giants started playing well and took control of the game. "That's it," I thought. "You are controlling this game with your vodka intake. Don't stop now. The Giants need you."

So I staggered down to the kitchen, made a third giant martini, tossed in the last of the spicy olives and staggered back to my seat. Shlomo jumped back into my lap.

I remember thinking, "Is it me or does Shlomo look anxious? Does he disapprove of all this drinking?"

The rest of the game was a bit of a blur, but thanks to Shlomo and me, the Giants won.

I do remember at one point, long after the game was over, I was still sitting on my sofa, sort of paralyzed, having a serious conversation with Shlomo. I know it was with Shlomo because we were the only two creatures in the house.

"Shlomo," I remember saying, "you're just a puppy now, but believe me it sucks to get old. Shlomo, there was a time when I could have had the two carafes of sake, the three giant martinis and then closed the evening off with some Macallan scotch and maybe a quart of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream covered with Kahlua chocolate liqueur.

"But tonight, my little friend, I have some serious reservations about how I'm going to get to the bedroom. Shlomo, if I should have to crawl to bed, I don't want you to think I'm making fun of you because you walk on all fours."

The next thing I remember is waking up in bed at 3:30 AM, happy that the Giants won but sad thinking about getting old. At one point I thought, "I came out at birth a lot easier than I can climb out of a taxicab these days."

On Monday morning a good friend who is close to my age sent me the following email about health and aging, which made me feel better and I just must share with you:

"If walking is good for your health, the postman would be immortal. A whale swims all day, only eats fish, drinks water, but is still fat. A rabbit runs and hops and only lives 15 years, while a tortoise doesn't run and does mostly nothing, yet it lives for 150 years."

He also wrote:

Now that I'm older, here's what I've discovered:

1. These days, I spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter . . . I go somewhere to get something, and then wonder what I'm "here after."

2. My wild oats are mostly enjoyed with prunes and all-bran.

3. I finally got my head together, and now my body is falling apart.

4. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded.

5. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded.

6. If all is not lost, then where the heck is it?

7. It was a whole lot easier to get older than to get wiser.

8. Some days, you're the top dog, some days you're the hydrant; the early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

9. Kids in the back seat cause accidents.

10. Accidents in the back seat cause kids.

11. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he'd have put them on my knees.

12. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded.

If you wish to comment on "Jerry's Ink" please send your message to jerry@dfjp.com.

  1. print email
    Fun Note from Bill
    December 04, 2013 | 06:20 AM

    Hey Jerry ... First, you went wrong at the Japanese restaurant. A double of aged Glenlivet ("neat") would have served you much better.

    But when you got home, you did the right thing. A straight-up martini with seven olives (Manzanilla being my favorite "stuffed" brand) in a wonderful Absolute Citron or Grey Goose blend of your choice, I assume.

    Forget about our beloved NY Giants, Shlomo, the "Beautiful Judy Licht", or anything else. This is the way to "go" at any point. And the next day, if you make it, order a pizza with "The Works." LOL, Bill

    Bill Crandall
  2. print email
    Drinking the Guants...
    December 04, 2013 | 04:16 PM

    I don't drink sake, rarely have a martini--and then with a lemon peel. I don't watch the Giants; no longer have a dog and even less of a lap. (I do drink my share and other's shares of red wine.) But I am in total communion with you with your opening sentence: Getting old sucks. Even at 65, it sucks.
    --Hy Abady

    Hy Abady
Reader Feedback Submission
Use this form to submit Reader Feedback.
* required value
Your Name*

Subject

Comment*

Verification*


Site Search



Scan
media