When I’m 64.

"When I get older losing my hair

Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four?

Life came into focus a while back; we were at a restaurant and when the menu was handed to me I opened it to learn, “I was eligible for senior pricing.” I smiled and said, “it’s about time!

We have many choices and paths to take in life, but when it comes to getting one year older every year, the options are fairly limited. Unless someone knows a way to stop the aging process—-without pills, knives or some other new fangled way to look younger—-I guess it beats dying. 

For some reason, and maybe it’s our generation, I struggle to see myself as old. This is not a ploy to get people to say, “you have not aged a day since I saw you last,” because if that’s the response, we must have seen each other yesterday and not years ago. We all get older and it is very obvious when you look at photos. Whether it’s grey hair, wrinkles, weight gain/loss, the only place I know age never changes—-takes place on Facebook. Everyone is young, looks great, and well—-the photos are likely old.

As an adult, and yes I am one, I have seen very important people in my life age; fortunately they have stayed around long enough for me to appreciate the extra time with them. Not like the World Cup where time is extended (still don’t get it) and then suddenly it’s over—-it’s been more about an extension of the ability to talk with parents, business associates, friends and more. This past weekend, and I have written about this before, I went to visit my Mom. In her ‘hood I saw familiar names—-a fraternity brother, friends of my parents, and of course my Mom, Aunt and Uncle. Since the first time visiting, I have become used to it. There’s really little change, perhaps a flower, additional stones on their head stone, and maybe a flag; in the end, if this is what it’s all about—-I guess they have good pot luck dinners when we’re not around. 

As we approach my very favorite holiday, it reminds me of some of the crazy things I did when I was growing up. I loved to shoot off firecrackers, bottle rockets and burn the occasional snake—-but the most memorable event was when the police officer came down our street. He asked all of us if we had any more fireworks in our home; only one of us said “Yes.” I assume you could feel my pride in admitting I was not a liar,  and I was going to give that guy every last one of those explosives that took every dime I had to buy. What more is there to say? I have grown up…now I would only give half of my stash!

The photo above is the most telling sign. If you examine it, you will see the mention of “Seniors 55 and older” dishes; is it worth letting them know you qualify? I did it and I am darn ok with it!

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