Gettin' Silly

 

   I may not have told you that the Mrs. and I are in an exercise group that has the imaginative name of Silver Sneakers. This is a program for seniors who have more time than sense and are willing to exercise for an hour on two mornings a week trying to coax our bodies to move. I believe the overall goal of the Silver Sneakers program is to convince us that we are once again young enough to dance to fifties-era music, as we often try to do. It has only been partially successful for me as I hop around trying in vain to find a beat. My favorites dance tunes are The Twist and YMCA, although recently I have taken to spelling out A A R P instead of Y M C A just to be silly. And that brings me to the topic at hand: many of us in the class amuse ourselves between sets of stretches, dances, and exercises by acting silly.

            It turns out that individual acts of goofiness are contagious. After someone acts out or says something completely silly, it is passed from one Sneaker to another and ripples of laughter circulate around the room. After that, a funny thing happens: the exercising becomes a little more palatable.

Fortunately, we have a teacher who puts up with our foibles. (We call her Annie Archy or sometimes Annie Achey if she has been too tough on us). The class is slowly gravitating toward most members being silly on a periodic basis. Not only are individual acts of craziness being lauded, now the entire class has begun conspiring to blur the line between sanity and, well, you know. At our last class meeting, we turned our chairs backwards so that Annie was facing our behinds. We thought it was hilarious. To our group of proper ladies and a scattering of grandpas, Annie said, "What the hell . . .?" As the next step in our ongoing joke, one of our members said he is going to arrive early at a meeting and move all our chairs outdoors.

            Fortunately, Annie has a profound sense of humor or she would have quit by now. The Silver Sneakers national organization doesn't seem to share her attitude in dealing with seniors who have a silly streak. One summer the organization sent a twenty-something fitness expert to evaluate our class. The assessment was a might critical,". . . the teacher doesn't seem to have control of her class." The report didn't bother our teacher and it gave us another thing to laugh about.

            I have come to understand that being silly is a valuable adjunct to growing older. If you are willing to say goodbye to your dignity, you can make a stiff joint or a sore hip a little more bearable. As one of our octogenarian exercisers who has her share of aches explained, "If it doesn't hurt, it must not be working." Another of our exercisers came to class with a broken foot that must have been painful. Yet, she drug her walking boot around and gamely tried various exercises, albeit with an exaggerated grimace. After each movement, in a fit of simulated agony she bellowed louder than an angry cow. Then she smiled while our class erupted in laughter. She's a treat. I expect her to milk the use of the boot for some months beyond her recuperation.

So, if your age has reached a point where you can detect pressure changes sooner than the weatherman and some of your joints need more lubrication than a 30 year-old lawnmower, my advice is to behave as if someone just told an uproariously funny story. Then, have a glass of wine and act like a clown. Forget the stretches and exercises, have another glass of wine, stick out your tongue and put on a silly face. You are bound to feel better. I've been obtaining the benefits of this advice for some while, besides, it provides cover for my most egregious behavior --that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

 

I been with Millie stompin' grapes and gettin' silly
Drinkin' wine, wine, wine
Pass a little ripple and you take a little sipple
Make me fine, fine, fine
There ain't nothin' in the place'll put a smile on my face
And take the worry off of my mind
Like me and Millie stompin' grapes and gettin' silly
Drinking wine

“Me and Millie" -- an old country song, lyrics by Bobby Goldsboro