Every Day It Matters Less That I'm Not Tall

Every Day It Matters Less That Vm Mot Tall Charles Harper Webb The time will come when, passing girls ofseventeen, I won't stretch, hoping to meet them eye to eye. I won't buy only shoes with heels, or puffskyward what's left of my hair. I won't scan fields ofpro athletes for the smallest receiver, shortest shortstop, slickest, quickest little guard with a deadly three-point eye. I won't wince when some TV commentator scoffs, "He's really short—barely five-nine." I'll stop envying the young their great nutrition and medical miracles that came too late for me. I won't care that my spine's collapsing, bones thinning, testosterone dwindling, only my ears and nose continuing to grow. What reliefto be retired from the game, no one expecting me to throw touchdowns, hit homers, palm a basketball, or for that matter, write good poems, make good money, live in a good neighborhood with my good kids and sexually satisfied wife. 77 78CHARLES HARPER WEBB What will I care if, as I slide into the flames, the mortician thinks, "What a small coffin. What a light weight"? ...