With the hope and hint of summer sometime ahead, this old Chicagoan can't help but feel the same old twin twinges. First, the little thrill that believes the poet who said: "Summer is what life ought to be," but second the grim memory of all those Charles Atlas ads: "Don't be a 98-pound weakling on the beach."
How to reconcile such conflicting Summer images...? OK you bronzed young studs may need no advice, but my senior peers [ages 50 to death] most assuredly do. So here it is, fellas, whether you want it or not:
* Never ever squeeze into a bathing suit again. There is more than enough absurdities on our screens to add one more to our mirrors
* Try to remember the sweet melancholy of the lyricist's words: "Beautiful girls/walk a little slower/when you walk by me." Then hope some of them do. At our age they are visions not of gritty lust, but of sentimental longing
Given these two simple suggestions, you senior studs will now be more prepared to walk the warm sandy beaches of Summer in peace. Knowing that you are now free to drink in its aquatic profusions without any need for personal performances. You see, this way the bounties of beauty around you -- both beach and girls -- now become as a great mural to be enjoyed without paying any performance fees darting muscularly across the sands.
It is wisely written, "There is a season for everything." I agree. For graying heads and thickening bodies like ours, outdoors Summers in Chicago are the ideal season for seeing virtually everything while doing virtually nothing.
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