What did he say?

Vacationing with aging siblings can be a real eye-opener. We all get along pretty well and have visited with, or vacationed, together many times through the years, but things change with age.
 
Mobility issues were the first realities to show themselves as we wobble from one destination to another, one with a cane and several with a noticeable limp from hips that could benefit from physical therapy or more. We speak of our limitations in conversations that our mother used to describe as an “organ recital.” By the time we get through any conversation, just about every limb on the human body is described in extensive and unnecessary detail.
 
We rented out a B&B on the shore of Lake Erie, though the foul weather precluded much touring. Yet we wanted to visit the lighthouse amidst winds of 35 knots and five-foot waves that prevented us from walking on the rocks which surround it, not that any of us are as sure-footed as once we were. One gust of wind knocked my brother-in-law completely off his feet. The next day we went out to Middle Bass Island, since the weather had calmed considerably. Many of us took the express ferry, a catamaran which zips across the tops of the waves. However we decided to take a car across as well, using the old ferry which bobs about in the water, in order that those who have trouble walking would have a mode of transportation on the island that would help them to keep up, as well as remain warm. Once on the island we rented golf carts, which my brother would careen around street corners in a sort of crack-the-whip move, hoping that he would toss those of us in the back into the drink.
 
Another interesting sign of our aging is hearing loss, that interrupts every conversation with, “What did he say?” Not that we all actually listen to one another to begin with. As one friend described her family: we don’t really have conversations; we just have “interrupted monologues.” We sometimes change subject without even intending to.
 
A third noticeable sign of our aging is the sporting events. Forty years ago we played “touch football.” Twenty years ago we lightened up a bit to play volleyball in our brother’s swimming pool. Now we play killer ping-pong, with rules adjusted for age. It’s a way for those who are formerly athletic to remain competitive… to a degree. What doesn’t come out at the ping-pong table manifests itself later at the card table with dime-ante, cutthroat card games or checkers.
 
Humor aside, it’s a sobering sight to see all of us slowing down. Our eldest sister will be 80 this December; our youngest brother just turned 61. Sporting events aside, we really are gentler with one another, digging into reserves of patience we didn’t know we had. And gratitude for our upbringing, which  taught us mutual respect.  For the most part we’re able to get a laugh at our deteriorating conditions, grateful we don’t have to suffer what another sibling might be living with. We’ve already planned a reunion for next summer, and are looking forward to seeing each other as we all take our leave tomorrow morning, heading in several different directions to our homes far away.