Why look for fountain of youth, anyway?

He explored the area, which is now historic St. Augustine, in 1513. Juan was the first governor of Puerto Rico, and he explored the Florida coast.

Women gripe a lot about their husbands these days, but they don’t know how good they have it.

“Billy Jean, can you believe it? My Tommy took off again today at the crack of dawn! Said he was going to play 18 holes with Billy Bob, and would be back only by dinner time. And I had a great big honey-do list of chores for him!”

Imagine what Mrs. León would have told her friends.

Mrs. León: “Hey Gabriela! Guess where my Juan called me from?”

Gabriela: “Where?”

Mrs. León: “Florida! I woke up this morning and he was gone. Told me he’ll be gone all year. And I really wanted him to run over to Havana and meet with Fidel Castro, so we could import some more caviar from Moscow.”

Men have always been looking for stuff, since time immemorial. Women should have gotten used to it by now. I can identify with those explorers. I spend half my life running up and down my house, looking for things.

“Honey, have you seen my favorite yellow pants? I can’t find them anywhere.”

“Have you looked in your closet, sweetheart?”

That’s what happened to Christopher Columbus, I think.

King Ferdinand of Spain: “Dog gone it, I can’t find India. I’m sure it was here just yesterday. Hey, Chris? Can you run on over and find it for me?”

Mrs. Ferdinand, a year later: “Now don’t you complain you haven’t heard from Chris for a year. India is right where you left it after the bachelor party you threw for our son. You should have asked me, instead of sending poor old Chris on a wild goose chase.”

Mrs. León was still talking to Gabriela.

Mrs. León: “I still can’t believe Juan is in Florida!”

Gabriela: “And how does he know he’s in Florida? Christopher Columbus thought he was in India, and look how that turned out.”

Mrs. León looked a bit sheepish. Then she said: “Actually, Juan told me he was really looking for Sri Lanka. But when he landed, the natives went, ‘Buenos dias!’ So he knew he was in Florida.”

Gabriela: “These men! They never stop and ask for directions if they are lost. By the way, why did he go there in the first place?”

Mrs. León: “He says he is looking for a fountain.”

Gabriela: “A fountain? Dios mio! That silly man! They sell such lovely fountains made of limestone in Havana. He should have asked me!”

Both women shook their heads. Obviously, Juan Ponce de León never did find the fountain of youth. Serves him right. He was way too impatient. Had he waited another 400 years or so, he could have taken a flight to Miami, hopped on to a commuter to Orlando, taken a rental car (I believe Hertz has specials), driven to St. Augustine and anybody would have directed him to the Fountain of Youth Archeological Park.

There is another problem with this scenario. Why was he looking for the fountain of youth anyway? Youth is highly overrated. I don’t want to be young again. Are you kidding me? Pay for my kids’ college one more time?

Me, I’m looking for the fountain of middle age (60 being the new 40). Sixty-five and Medicare! Sixty-six and Social Security! I wish somebody would sell me a small, rechargeable, battery-operated version of said fountain for my den.