"Calling All 'Old Gizas'" (Take A Picture With An Old Giza In Your Life) - 1

Back in the 1840's, about the time I was old enough to get into real trouble but still young enough to think that I could get away with, Old Man Fosdyke --he lived down the street-- pulled me aside, set me down, and fixed me with his terrifying glare.

I knew this glare --indeed, I knew it well-- and knew that he was going to report me to my parents for some perceived infraction that he invented only when he realized he needed yard work done and saw me walking by.  The inevitable result?  My parents would insist that I make it up to Old Man Fosdyke by raking the lawn, chopping wood, pulling thistles, or some other unnecessary, thankless, and day-consuming task.

But this time I guess Old Man Fosdyke was feeling philosophical.  Or maybe he saw some glimmer of future young manhood in me that needed reprimanding.  Whatever the case, there we sat facing one another in his parlor, late afternoon sun streaming through the open west windows, the air dry, desiccated, and hot. 

"Son," he said.  And the glare intensified.  "Son..."  And the glare intensifed again until I could smell the wall burning nine feet behind me.  "Son...remember this."

"Sir?"  The sudden urge to pee was overwhelming.

"Son.  Remember this."  And then, with a savage finger jab to my chest he smiled darkly and said, "Old age and treachery will always defeat youth and skill."

And then he chuckled, picked up his drink, and walked around a corner to the clutter-filled room he called his study.  I waited just a moment before I went out the side door to his rotting old porch and slowly made my way home.

I have long contemplated this expression and the life of the man who shared it with me.  In fact, during a stretch when I was foolishly dating Fosdyke's granddaughter Lucy, we discussed it while stealthily drinking what we thought was his very expensive 20 year old scotch whiskey since it came from a bottle so labeled only to learn later that he had been refilling that bottle with gas station hooch that he knew we would be drinking (all the while thinking we were putting one over on him) while he secretly kept the really good stuff for himself and his cabal of friends behind the molasses in the upper-left middle cabinet.  Treachery, indeed.

Today, as I approach a round number birthday I find myself more sympathetic to old Man Fosdyke's point of view every year, perhaps because I am forced to put what small hope I have less and less in youth and skill and more and more in treachery and old age.  It gives me a sense of optimism, I guess.  I never quite pulled off youth and skill but I'm feeling pretty good about mastering old age and treachery.  It feels horrible to say it but it almost makes me feel young.

So here's a tracker for the "Old Gizas", the ones who have been around the block (and the sun) a few times, the ones who owe Moses a quarter, the ones who modeled for Da Vinci, the ones to whom they say "Oh, you don't!  Back you go!" when they try to leave a museum, and the ones who remember the good old days when grouchy old neighbors could still scare kids and stare burn holes into walls.

So, take and post a picture with an "Old Giza" or just a "Giza" who is old at heart.  Share some stories.  Share a laugh.  For God's sake, share a drink.

And then, however slowly and decrepitudinously, move this tracker to the next cache and keep him moving.  He's young and skillful, the poor bastard, and needs all the help he can get.

PaxCache

Jan 2020

This cache consists of a braided wire with a nut and washer (both written on with a meaning known only to PaxCache), two coins for luck and to start conversations with your Old Giza, and a Great Pyramids of Giza tracker tag.

After you recover this tracker, please LOG THIS TRACKER'S NUMBER into www.geocaching.com, take and post a picture, and then put it in another cache to keep the fun going.

Cache on.

PaxCache

Jan 2020