This Really Ain’t No Dress Rehearsal! By: Vicki Wentz / Vicki’s <strong>Voice</strong> You know how when you’re young, you sort of don’t worry much about making mistakes or screwing things up, because somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know, you are positive, that you’ll have a chance to do it right “later”? I mean, like on your “second time around” or whatever? Like dropping out of Pre-Med to become a mime, or choosing a drug-free labor and delivery, or marrying the totally wrong person? You’ll have a chance to fix that “later” right? Here’s a hint - WRONG! So wrong! So completely and astoundingly and devastatingly wrong that it could be the wrongest wrong thing on the planet! Oh, I know what they say: Life is short. You only live once. This is no dress rehearsal, blah, blah, blah. Who listens? But “they” were right, my friend - and we were WRONG! As you can plainly see, I have been traumatized by this revelation, because I, for one, had a whole slew of things I’d been planning to go back and “fix.” And suddenly, here I am in middle age (shut up) and frightening things are happening to my mind, my memory, my body, and my prospects…and I just became aware that there are no doovers! And not only can I not “fix” previous mistakes, but I have also “aged out” of lots of things I used to do. For example, there’s no way I could be a waitress again, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, but still, it’s the principle. Why? Because I couldn’t be on my feet carrying heavy stuff all day and wearing one of those cutesy uniforms with the lacy apron, as I could - and did - throughout my growing-up life. (I couldn’t even sell clothes at Nordstrom’s - same reasons, minus the apron.) It’s also too late to play the lead opposite Kevin Costner in any movie on earth. Why? Please. And I used to play tennis. I played it well, fiercely, competitively, and even sweatily. <strong>The</strong>n, I broke my leg in a zillion places, which resulted in screws, pins, casts, doom, gloom, and a permanently slightly crooked ankle. No more tennis. So, being the courageous, take-it-on-the-chin, get-back-up-on-thehorse girl I am, I immediately retired under the bed whimpering that life held nothing more for me. Eventually, I was coaxed out by the new Double-Stuff Oreos And I swore that I would only remain on the couch until I figured out what new sport might strike my fancy. Turns out, tennis was it - the only physical activity in my repertoire. I was cavalier about it because I thought I’d have plenty of time to do it over the right way – eventually. <strong>The</strong>n, I started noticing how many things I could no longer physically do with my physical self. Like kneeling - even in church. Like lifting the extra-large-size ketchup bottle. Like walking up a flight of stairs without calling the paramedics. I was astonished. And angry as hell! So, I went to the gym to meet the new personal trainer. He said, “Hello, my name is Mr. Later. ” So, now I am literally trying to “fix” my body…and never was there a more formidable task, although I know I’m not the only one who thought we’d have another chance to get it right. I know you people out there who’ve been watching TV and ordering pizza in blissful ignorance of Mr. Later, so maybe we could all “fix” things together. I’m not guaranteeing an offer from “Vogue Magazine” and I’m not saying you’ll be able to serve in the military...or even at IHOP. But we won’t just be standing around waiting for a “do-over” that never comes…and we’ll damn well be able to pick up the ketchup and carry it up the stairs! Vicki Wentz is a writer, teacher and speaker living in North Carolina. Readers may contact her - and order her new children’s book! - by visiting her website at www.vickiwentz.com. 44 <strong>July</strong> <strong>2021</strong> Thank You Susan Loyal reader Susan Roberts put to good use our previous <strong>Vegas</strong> <strong>Voice</strong> editions. Rather than “lining bird cages” she was able to handcraft the pages to make a wonderful basket. We proudly placed it on our TV/ YouTube video set for all to see. Thank you Susan!
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