It's hard to believe, but I'm edging closer to the big Five-O (and not Hawaii). While it isn't surprising I made it this far (well maybe a little), it is surprising at just how fast the last two decades went. At twenty eight I remember hearing of an acquaintance turning fifty. It was the first time being aware of a person reaching half a century that wasn't a family member. I didn't think it was "old" but I did think, "Wow, fifty, that's a long way off."
We're all going to get old (if we're lucky), and the older you get the older old gets. At nineteen I had a friend who was twenty two and recall asking him if he minded hanging around with people "my age." At thirty somebody who was seventy seemed ancient, but at forty eight, seventy is looking pretty good.
As long as I'm healthy I think I can deal with the aging process. I have a little grey hair now but at least I've kept most of it. I really don't like shaving, so the grey in my chin is a bit of an annoyance and "Just For Men" for beards and moustaches gave me a rash. I've noticed a few extra brown spots, some hair requires a bit more attention and occasionally I catch my reflection out of the corner of my eye in a department store mirror and wonder who that old guy is. These things can all be dealt with. Here's the problem...
People calling me "Sir."When exactly does a person become a "Sir"?(or a Ma'am, which I was told by a good friend is even worse). Looking younger than my birth certificate most of my life, I'm certainly not vain or foolish enough to think that was going to last forever but I still see the world out of twenty year old eyes and will never feel like a Sir. There's nothing like the sense of relief I feel now when I enter a store, coffee shop or restaurant and manage to escape without being called "Sir".
"You don't stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing."
Whatever...
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