Prepping for a Better Tomorrow. 03/24/23

Getting older, having knee replacements, hip replacements, heart procedures and the like can make you think about the end. I had one friend who used to say something to the effect of, “When I die, I want an outdoor funeral that’s like a concert. Tie-dye shirts and the Grateful Dead blasting out of the speakers.” Unfortunately, he passed away young, but he got the party he was wishing for. As we get older it’s only natural to think about what the future might bring. And even though I’m the one who had the heart procedure, John’s the one who thought this comic up. Al is a worrier and a planner. For him it wasn’t enough to request “Stairway to Heaven” as his song (Heaven, get it?), he then worried about what the Led Zeppelin classic would sound like on a church organ. We both imagined it would sound terrible. You can take a great song, but play it with the wrong instruments or the wrong performers and well, it ain’t that great a song anymore. I’m flashing back to a spring break trip with my best buddy to Puerto Rico. The only show in town was some group called “Brandy Stratton and the Victorians,” and every night you could hear them belting out “Nights in White Satin,” a great song. But the point is, it’s a great song when the Moody Blues do it. Brandi Stratton, not so much. Not even the Victorians could save her. But back to funeral songs. I mean would you really want “Stairway” to be played on a church organ. Maybe “Light My Fire,” with its iconic organ solo, THAT might make a great song, but then it implies cremation and some religions frown on that and…never mind.

Moving on, we turned our attention to the gym. I don’t know how many of you readers actively go to the gym these days, with all the Pelotons and at home equipment these days, but if you do, you’ll notice a new breed of gym rat. The Personal Trainer. One approached me on a treadmill a couple years ago. I was jogging and doing one minute sprints every five minutes. The guy comes up to me, stands on the adjoining treadmill, and starts asking about my technique. If I remember correctly, “Are you doing intervals?” was one of his conversational gambits. I wasn’t sure who he was or why he’d strike up a conversation with a stranger about their workout. Was he trying to pick me up???? So to get rid of him, I asked, “Why are you asking?” To which he replied, “I’m a personal trainer. Hi, I’m A.J.” He offered his hand to shake but I was holding onto the rails for dear life during my sprint, so I just said, “Pleased to meet you A.J. I’m gonna finish my sprint.” He left but was so persistent in subsequent visits, I quit that gym and joined another. This particular gym had people in black shirts labeled “PERSONAL TRAINER,” which I found very helpful. They never approach a person, unless the person specifically asks for a trainer at the front desk. A much more civilized system as compared to the first gym. But while recounting this story to John, I mentioned that while most of them were very fit, there were a couple that had obvious paunch bellies. I found that kind of ironic and shared that with John. He thought, “…what if a trainer looked like that on purpose, so as not to be intimidating?” And I thought to myself, “Self, would you rather have a buff fitness instructor who’s going to kick your butt for 45 straight minutes, or a guy who’s a little paunchy, who might say, “Hey, take couple minutes and catch your breath, would you like a bottle of water?” Give me Mr. Paunchy every time. And our second comic was born.

Happy Spring everyone, even though it’s cold and raining right now in New York. We’ll see you next week. Who knows where we’ll go? Well, actually we know, but we’re not telling in advance.

Andy and John