The fact that my world has been covered in snow and frozen beyond recognition for the last few days has put me into a contemplative mood. Old guys who have too much time to think usually overthink everything.

For example, I am just a little bit agitated. Mind you, I have no good reason to be agitated about anything. But the longer I think about stuff the more fired up I get. I’ve been shut up inside for way too many hours over the last three days. I’m about as stir crazy as it gets. I’m burning through firewood like water going down the drain.

I find myself standing at the kitchen door looking out through the window. I’m thinking that I used to be a man. That this kind of weather didn’t phase me. That I should put on my coveralls. Get out there. And do something.

I got in this text conversation with Marion.

Me: I need to get outside. I’m going nuts.

Her: I walked down to the lake this morning. It was cold.

Me: I might get on the EZ-GO and see how it rides in the snow. Go site seeing.

Her: You might go sliding around.

I’ll interrupt here to make an observation. Thirty years ago, heck maybe 10 years ago, the idea of sliding around in the snow on a utility cart would have appealed to me. And by that, I mean that it would have appealed to me without a care in the world.

The difference now is that even though the idea still appeals to me, it comes with reservations. And that just boils my blood a little bit.

Me: The hill going down to the creek is what makes me hesitant. It’s gonna be covered in ice. I might end up in the creek.

Her: Yup. That’s a possibility.

You see, young folks get into tough spots all the time because they don’t think things through. They don’t consider all the possibilities that could foul up their plan. They don’t always deliberate the pros and cons along with the potential outcomes.

Guys my age say things like, “Guess they should have thought that one through a little more.”

The text continues.

Her: Besides, you don’t want to break an arm, leg or hip before March.

She mentions March because we are going back to Lake Kissimmee on another fishing trip this spring.

Me: Well, I’m at least gonna bundle up and go for a long walk.

Her: Okay. Don’t slip and fall. I’m going fishing with or without you.

First of all, she’s having fun with me. All this is in jest. But even in jest, she worries about me getting hurt.

Second of all, it sort of bothers me that I’m not fearless anymore. I let certain restraints hold me back. I don’t do things that I used to do without hesitation.

I’m just talking about going out in the snow, for crying out loud.

On the one hand, I’m no spring chicken any longer. I’m twice the age of our newly sworn in Vice President of these here United States of America. I didn’t know they let someone so young sit in the second seat.

On the other hand, I don’t think of myself as being elderly, either. Unless it gets me a discount on my haircut, or my pancakes at IHOP. Then, I’m all over it.

Somewhere, there’s a middle ground between age and perspective. Between reality and possibility. Between being stuck indoors and getting out there to face the challenges.

So, I got out there. I swept the snow off my truck. Shoveled off the steps to my porch. Scooted a little bit on some ice. Took a long walk through the woods. And, eventually, I got around to making this goofy contraption that looked something like a snowplow for the front of the utility cart.

I learned several things.

The EZ-GO rides on the snow pretty good. It’s not an Arctic Cat or a Polaris, but it works.

Secondly, rubber boots grip the snow and ice better than tennis shoes. I’ll just let that sink in.

Also, making a homemade snowplow turned out to be a lot of fun.

Mind you, I didn’t go outside necessarily to have fun. I didn’t make any snow angels. I didn’t build any snowmen. I didn’t jump on a cardboard box to see if I could ride the hill down the driveway.

It’s not that I can’t do those things, or that I don’t want to do those things. I’m pretty sure if the grandkids had been here, I would have been right in the middle of all that with them.

I thought about making a snow angel. I thought about just getting down there on my back and being goofy. But then I thought about how I was gonna get all the snow off my backside. It wasn’t gonna melt off. Not at 18°.

So, no snow angel this time. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get a chance in the next snow if I’m still around in 2032.

I’ve heard people say it all the time, “You’re as old as you think you are.”

While there is some degree of truth to this notion, if it were completely true, I’d be somewhere around 40 years old. About 95 percent of the time, that’s the age where my brain is living. My back, butt, and feet know better, yet I seldom think of myself as being inhibited by age. I know I’m very fortunate to be in decent health.

I was walking through the parking lot toward the entrance to Sam’s Club the other day. I saw this guy, maybe 30 yards in front of me. He was headed for the doors, as well. I caught him and passed him like he was walking in molasses. He was struggling, and I swear he was 10 years younger than me.

He wasn’t struggling because he thought he was old. His body was falling apart on him way too early. It could be he abused his body when he was younger. Could be, he’s got a genetic disease over which he has no control. All is not fair in age and beauty.

But watching him walk made me feel pity and gratitude at the same time. It also made me think about how foolish it is to sit around and think old, act old, and be any older than I need to be.

Once upon a time, Dad stopped in to meet a new neighbor. A couple of new houses showed up across from the Dupree’s place. Dad wanted to know who they were. I can’t remember how old he was at the time, but he was old enough that when he talked to the young man, and went to step up on the front porch, they younger man reached out and grabbed his arm to help him up.

Dad said, “It kind of ticked me off.”

Staring at the snow out the window, and hesitating to go because I might injure myself, well, it kind of ticked me off. I’m done being old.

Except for sledding. I probably shouldn’t go sledding.