Ever watch TV and a story comes on that says, for example, Neil Sedaka is 85 this year and you go, man, is he getting old?!
Then, a second later it hits you: I’m 74, he’s not much older than I am (and never was).
Did you notice, by the way, that Paul McCartney will be 81 in a few days? I mean, well, you know. "When I'm 84" wouldn't have been such a good song for Baby Boomers. Back then, anyway. Today, it probably would work.
Sports heroes of my youth are dying: UCLA/NBA star and weird but lovable Bill Walton; Mr. Oakland Raider Jim Otto; golfer/announcer Peter Oosterhuis; quarterback Roman Gabriel. I mean, what the heck? Today, I couldn’t tell you who the L. A, Rams quarterback is, Gabriel I knew.
The majority of baby boomers, we never knew our great-grandparents. Hell, we didn’t even know the names of our ancestors going back maybe one or two generations.
Today, the average age of great-grandparents is 75. I became a great-grandfather for the second time before I was 73. OK 0K, that’s a function of, as with many in my generation, an early marriage resulting in having kids when I was young, and my kids having kids when they were even younger. Plus, medical research is helping us all live longer. Not that I'm old (before you say it).
But, give me this one, I’m the father of a grandmother? WT-. A beautiful and young looking grandmother, of course (she sometimes reads these posts. Kidding, she is beautiful and young).
Anyway, that’s all distraction and deflection to hide the fact that, today:
I turn 74 years old.
Not a milestone milestone like 70 or 80 but a milestone for me because it’s the oldest I’ve ever been. Well, until tomorrow when I’ll achieve a new milestone.
I have the similar issues of other folks my vintage:
My childhood punishments, as a great philosopher once said, are now my adult goals:
Plus, now, when I look around for the adult in the room because we need his or her wisdom, I’m the adult in the room! (I fake it, which they probably did, too.)
Oh, and I’m suffering from lower back pain as we speak. I tell everyone, I mean everyone, from friends to medical professionals, that it happened this spring because I started playing golf again and my powerful golf back-swing caused a muscle strain. And, to a person, they laugh (a benefit: old folks are funny even if they aren't trying to be, I'm learning).
As another anonymous philosopher once said, “I don’t do alcohol anymore, I get the same effect just standing up fast.”
But, I’ll end the pity party. Truth is, I have little to complain about compared to others who are my age or any age, in fact. I’m a very happy camper. Life is good. Health is better than it probably should be.
And, as Steven Wright once said:
“I intend to live forever,
So far, so good.”
Then, a second later it hits you: I’m 74, he’s not much older than I am (and never was).
Did you notice, by the way, that Paul McCartney will be 81 in a few days? I mean, well, you know. "When I'm 84" wouldn't have been such a good song for Baby Boomers. Back then, anyway. Today, it probably would work.
Sports heroes of my youth are dying: UCLA/NBA star and weird but lovable Bill Walton; Mr. Oakland Raider Jim Otto; golfer/announcer Peter Oosterhuis; quarterback Roman Gabriel. I mean, what the heck? Today, I couldn’t tell you who the L. A, Rams quarterback is, Gabriel I knew.
The majority of baby boomers, we never knew our great-grandparents. Hell, we didn’t even know the names of our ancestors going back maybe one or two generations.
Today, the average age of great-grandparents is 75. I became a great-grandfather for the second time before I was 73. OK 0K, that’s a function of, as with many in my generation, an early marriage resulting in having kids when I was young, and my kids having kids when they were even younger. Plus, medical research is helping us all live longer. Not that I'm old (before you say it).
But, give me this one, I’m the father of a grandmother? WT-. A beautiful and young looking grandmother, of course (she sometimes reads these posts. Kidding, she is beautiful and young).
Anyway, that’s all distraction and deflection to hide the fact that, today:
I turn 74 years old.
Not a milestone milestone like 70 or 80 but a milestone for me because it’s the oldest I’ve ever been. Well, until tomorrow when I’ll achieve a new milestone.
I have the similar issues of other folks my vintage:
- Driving after dark is nigh impossible;
- Using words like “nigh” is more frequent;
- Driving two hours each way to visit family or friend now is, minimum, an overnight stay, maybe two;
- Staying awake past 9:30 is akin to pulling all-nighters when I was in college;
- Using outdated words like akin is more common.
My childhood punishments, as a great philosopher once said, are now my adult goals:
- Not leaving my house
- Not going to a party
- Going to bed early
Plus, now, when I look around for the adult in the room because we need his or her wisdom, I’m the adult in the room! (I fake it, which they probably did, too.)
Oh, and I’m suffering from lower back pain as we speak. I tell everyone, I mean everyone, from friends to medical professionals, that it happened this spring because I started playing golf again and my powerful golf back-swing caused a muscle strain. And, to a person, they laugh (a benefit: old folks are funny even if they aren't trying to be, I'm learning).
As another anonymous philosopher once said, “I don’t do alcohol anymore, I get the same effect just standing up fast.”
But, I’ll end the pity party. Truth is, I have little to complain about compared to others who are my age or any age, in fact. I’m a very happy camper. Life is good. Health is better than it probably should be.
And, as Steven Wright once said:
“I intend to live forever,
So far, so good.”
RSS Feed