Ü50 column – blood sugar brothers like us

Forever Corona. Inflation now. And the Russians might stop by soon, too. Reading the news is not for cowards right now.


So what does the 50+ man do to bring a bit of good humor into his life?

Drink? Can’t because of sugar. Women? Don’t go because of the woman. concerts? Can’t because of Omicron. So I’m currently trying to find friends again. The much scolded Facebook is useful for this. If you find one, the algorithm flushes the rest of the gang into your cell phone.


Today I meet Matze. Also already 62. We once lived in a flat share. Without clean dishes or significant supplies of solid food. But with many dreams of a wild life in the fridge.


Fresh air date in the Hamburg city park. A vaguely familiar grey-haired guy comes towards me.

I’m like, “Fuck, has he gotten fat.”

Matze says: “Shit, how much did you put on?”

We stomp across the swampy dog ​​meadow and watch my raging tölen.

We were so light-footed back then. When we were little, we practiced beach volleyball for hours on a badminton court. Later even played on the tour. The parties were hot. The nights short. And sunscreen for girls. Matze has skin cancer today and we both have diabetes.


For a while we compare glucose levels. Blood sugar brothers so to speak. Two young women cross our path. Mate turns around.

I say: “Don’t do that!”

He asks: “Why? One looked at me.”

I sigh: “She thought: why is grandpa staring at me so stupidly.”


We end up with a coffee on the park bench. Talking about retirement at 63. Partial retirement. The children. Impending grandfatherhood. And how one could become free and wild again, on the route from here to the box.


Next week we want to go to the beach. Matze brings a beach volleyball, I bring a badminton net. Might look a little ridiculous. But getting old isn’t for cowards either.


*Leif Lasse Andersson is an author (“Planlos between Pandemic and Plauze”), a BILD columnist and a pseudonym. Email him at [email protected]


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