Free Getting Old Can Kill You by Rita Lakin Page A

another Phase just so we can have some privacy. But then again, that news will also spread and feelings will be hurt. They should put up a sign, “Changes not welcome here.”
    One thing or another kept us from swimming all week, so Jack and I brace ourselves for the lunatic attack that awaits us from good old Hy Binder when we finally return to our daily routine. We turn the corner around the showers, reaching the pool and, sure enough, here’s Hy. Like a tiger lying in wait, ready to spring.
    “Well, look who’s come to join us this morning. It’s the honeymooners.”
    No one wants to pay attention to Hy, except for his parrot-wife, Lola, who adores every squawk out of his mouth. As does Sol, who is his best buddy. But Hy is too loud to ignore.
    “Continued your honeymoon back here? Hiding away up in the Chez Gladdy bedroom?”
    I poke Jack gently as he’s about to take Hy on. I whisper, “Ignore him.” After years of living through Hy’s jokes and simplistic attacks, one stops paying attention. Jack, being a newcomer to our Phase, wants to take him on. Why bother? Why waste one’s time and energy?
    We make our way to our usual spots.
    Hefty Tessie is swimming laps as usual. Hubby Sol sits at the edge, dangling his feet, watching his wife swim. This was not a marriage made in heaven. Tessie ran after him but he was too slow to get away.
    Enya, our war survivor, sits in her corner, large straw sun hat blocking her face, eyes glued to a book, ignoring everyone as is her preference.
    The snowbirds are devouring their usual Canadian newspapers.
    Irving and Mary, still good friends, continue to visit Irving’s wife, Millie, who remains in the Alzheimer’s ward at a nearby facility. They visit her every day, even though she doesn’t recognize either of them.
    The two cousins, Barbi and Casey, who ran a computer information business, have moved back to San Francisco where they feel they will have more freedom to live the kind of life they prefer to lead. I suspect they weren’t really cousins.
    As we settle into our chaises, Hy starts in with another of his jokes. The Internet supplies him with these old saws by the hundreds. He practically dances up and down in his enthusiasm.
    “Didja hear the one about the ninety-year-old guy sitting on a park bench crying? A cop comes over and asks what’s the matter. Herby, that’s his name, Herby says he just came home from his honeymoon with his gorgeous young wife. The cries become sobs. ‘Well,’ says the cop, ‘good for you. But why are you crying?’ Herbie blows his nose and says, ‘She’s waiting for me in her negligee and I don’t remember where we live.’ ”
    There is a mild smattering of applause, mostly from Lola and Sol. I would guess that joke is as old as Hy.
    Jack and I apply our sunblock. He does my back and I do his.
    Hy wants to annoy us some more. He leans closer and pesters us about where the girls were going today and have we heard from Evvie. I say, “I don’t know” and “yes.” That’s as much information as I’ll give out to the likes of him. I lie down on my stomach, my back to Hy.
    He’d try harder, but one look from Jack shuts him down. Off he goes to join Sol. They sit at his patio table and the two men start to play cards.
    Peace and quiet at last. Jack is happily doing the Sunday crosswords and I am trying not to think of Evvie and Joe’s two empty chairs next to me. I’ll probably call my sister again today. I remember back to the days we all lived in the Bronx. We used to call each other three or four times a day, and laugh at ourselves. The second or third conversation always started with, By the way, I forgot to tell you, this or that …
    And here we live in buildings directly across the way. We can even see each other in our windows and wave. Yet we still make the many calls. I smile.
    Jack pokes me gently, pulling me out of my memories. “Company.”
    I turn over and glance to where he’s indicating.
    To my