Our newspaper prints a summary of the obituaries on the front page along with celebrity birthdays. As I look as the obituaries, I say to myself, “older, older, older, younger, older, younger”, etc., depending if the deceased was older or younger than me. Then I glance at the celebrity birthdays and realize I don’t know most of them and the ones do know are usually in their seventies or older. The only logical conclusion is that I am old.
I don’t generally feel old. Sometimes the body seizes up after a day of physical work and am not particularly fond of doing things late at night. But I relish the idea of defying the stereotypes of old age. I want to keep learning, finding new art to appreciate, and doing things that surprise people. I want to keep creating and learn how to love better.
Most of the time I don’t mind being a man of a certain age. Less pressure. More freedom. Hopefully, less stupidity.
I hope to keep the twinkle in my eye (even though I am getting cataracts).
I know all to well of what you are talking about