THE AGING OF AN AQUARIAN

 I long for the days when I got together with my buddies and we talked about girls and sports.  Smoked some weed and drank a ton of margaritas.  Now we talk about rotator cuffs and prostate issues.  Want to join us.  It's a fun night.
 I firmly believe that no one should truly exercise after the age of 35.  Yes, that includes pilates.  Oh sure, you can walk a couple of miles along the shoreline with your sweetie.   Perhaps, with help, lift up the office's Arrowhead bottle.  Take the trash cans out on Thursday.  Then have the wife bring them back in on Friday.  That's about it.
 No playing second base for the company softball team.  No pickup basketball games with the teenaged nephews.  No gym memberships.  Don't tell me you're still jogging at your age.  "I just completed a 10k." Great, you probably ruined a knee and did damage to your spleen.
 My Dad never exercised after the age of 35.  The only part of his body that was in shape was his right wrist.  Which he used countless times over the day striking matches to help support his 3 pack a day smoking habit.  All that striking and he never got carpal tunnel syndrome I might add.  His idea of a workout was getting in and out of my BMW.  He lived to the age of 86 without ever doing a sit up.
 In the sixties the Dads coached the kids.  There was no urge to shag a few fly balls.  They realized that there was a difference between themselves and their sons.  It was called age.  They weren't attending baseball fantasy camps where they could get a few autographs and pull a few hamstrings.  They didn't spend money on home gym equipment.  They were too busy saving their money for their kids' college education.  They worried less about their abs and more about putting food on the table for their families.  None of these Dads had a yoga mat in their station wagon.  These Dads were not fixated on vanity.  Most of them lived well into their eighties.  That's when their bodies began to break down.  Not while they were in their forties and fifties.
 It is my belief that Jack LaLanne and Jane Fonda actually were working for various medical organizations.  The more they got people to exercise - the more those people turned into patients.  I'm waiting for Richard Simmons to go on 20/20 to tell the truth.  "I was paid by orthopedic surgeons to tell fatties to jump up and down."
 My body has been trying to tell me to stop being a fool for the past couple of years.  I was one of those idiot joggers.  Pounding away on cement sidewalks thinking that I was indestructible.  Well, so much for that.
 The aches turn to pains.  You begin to hear terms like, "It's affecting C5 and C6."  Procedures turn into surgeries.  You are so upset that you are still years away from 65 and Medicare.  You stay away Paul Ryan.  Now all of your European vacation money is going into epidurals, co-pays and deductibles.
 I had neck fusion surgery this past December.  Everything is progressing well.  I am about a month away from being cleared to resume normal activity.  I'm hoping that normal activity means more than tying your shoes and eating corn on the cob.
 I have kind of ruled out jogging in the future.  Now, if you see me on the street, I will be one of those pitiful brisk walkers.  I have started to hit a few golf balls.  I'm not giving up that irritation.  Hopefully, I will resume playing tennis in about five weeks and praying that that lies within the boundaries of normal activity.
 I can only imagine all of the neighborhood Dads looking down on their moronic sons and mocking them.  Especially my Dad.   "Fine, do it your way.  Go on and play tennis at your age.  Crush that serve.  Leap for that overhead.  You're about a minute away from not being able to put on a sweater by yourself ever again."

LIKE A GOOD NEIGHBOR

 The Los Angeles Department of Transportation (DOT) has turned our nice serene street into a battle between the hoodies and the Zimmermans.  Neighbors used to smile at me and the wife at the neighborhood Halloween gathering.  Now they look at us like we are Julius and Ethel Rosenberg.  Sides have been drawn.  At this point I believe that it would be easier to solve the issue of Palestine than resolve the differences on my block.  Thank you DOT.

 The dispute is all about the new parking restrictions and the petition that was circulated to get the changes made.  The new restrictions that have gone up are:  NO PARKING 8 to 8 SEVEN DAYS A WEEK WITHOUT A PERMIT.  My street is now basically East Berlin.  Anybody that we invite over for dinner now needs to pick up a shuttle at the Grove.

 For the new parking changes to have occurred a petition needed to be signed by 2/3 of the homeowners on the block.  On our block that number was 18.  The petition that was turned in had the required minimum signatures of 18.  The problem was that the wife and I were one of the signatures on the petition.  We had told the petitioner neighbor, from now on to be named Mr. Deceitful, that if there was not a meeting to discuss the parking changes he was to take off our name from the petition.  We were signing to help him advance the discussion of the changes.  We never wanted 7 days a week.  We wanted to tweak the hours.  He told us no problem.  That there would be a meeting.  A couple of other neighbors thought they were signing up for a meeting.  Mr. Deceitful had gotten his signatures and quickly turned the petition in.  Lesson learned - never trust anybody in a tank top.

 So; we turned to the DOT for help.  There is an old saying that those that can - do and that those that can't - teach.  The employees at DOT can't do or teach.  On two different occasions we told DOT that our signature was improperly left on the petition.  Two times DOT said that our signature would be removed.  We were even told by DOT that fraud might have been committed by the petitioner.  So; if our name was removed - the petition was no longer valid.  They now only had 17 signatures.  Simple math.  People coming over for a barbeque can now park in front of my house.  Yeah, right.

 We never could get a definitive answer as to how they validated the petition.  One person at DOT said that they called everybody that had signed.  Another person said that they make random calls to the people that signed.  Another person said that they make sure that the signatures match up to the names of the owners of the property.

 As far as we can tell they only called two people to validate the petition.  One of them was the wife who told the guy to take her name off of the petition.  He said he would.  Verifying signatures.  The DOT isn't CSI.  Basically, I could start a petition and sign everybody's name to it that lives on my street.  My petition would make it mandatory that everybody has to wear a kilt.  The DOT would have validated it.

 The last straw happened this past Thursday when DOT sent us an email to say that the petitioner had just gotten 2 more signatures.  That even if they took our names off - they would have the required signatures.  We went ballistic.

 8 months after a petition is sent in and "approved" you accept two new signatures! I told DOT about all the changes that had occurred on our street between July of last year and April of this year.  I told DOT that since last July there have been 2 new Amazing Race casts.  That Herman Cain had been a frontrunner.  That a Three Stooges movie actually had gotten a good review.

 So far; my reasoning has fallen on deaf ears.  Rick Santorum couldn't get on a ballot because he was short 40 signatures.  If DOT was involved Rick could turn in his signatures today and they would have to re-vote.  If Thomas Dewey was still alive I'd tell him to call DOT.  He still might beat Truman.

 A series of never minds began to take place from the offices of DOT.  Words like 

"misrepresented".  Statements like "people remembering things differently".  In one email from DOT they actually said that they were using our questions as a learning tool.  Glad to help; as I continue to look out at my street that I am now referring to as "Checkpoint Charlie".

 Look, our street could use some new parking restrictions.  The 2 hour parking signs were never enforced.  I guess the city had ran out of chalk and the tires of unwanted cars were never marked.  The end of our block also has the perfect storm for mischief parking.  A marijuana dispensary.  A cupcake store.  A massage parlor.  You get high.  You get your munchies taken care of.  You get a handjob.  Isn't that the American way.

 Reasonable neighbors could have come to a middle ground if given a chance.  Not sure about that now. One of the neighbors at the bottom of the hill feels the wrath of the riff raff.   At first I was sympathetic for her plight.  Now I just want to go up to her and yell in her face, "What do you expect?  You live next to a freakin' alley! Hello!!!"

 My wife and I still continue to battle the city.  I will leave you with two thoughts.  1. Never sign a petition.  2.  Love thy neighbor unless they are wearing a tank top.