Am I Old Yet?

When are we officially “old”?

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and it’s a topic that really interests me.

Because, well, I might be “approaching” OLD.

You see, I’m past 70 now (WOW), and I’m beginning to think that the world-at-large is starting to regard me in that, uh, you know, that way…

Yes, there have been many signs that I’ve picked up on that might be trying to tell me something: That I’m OLD. Not “Old OLD,” you understand, but maybe “youngish OLD?”

Now “Old OLD,” well, we all know what that means: You don’t like to drive FAST, and you HATE the kids playing in your yard. You don’t see or hear so well anymore, and rap and metal music makes you want to scream.

The list goes on and on, but you get the idea…

Now I’ve been seeing this thing called “old” coming at me for a while. At first, I thought I was becoming “youngish OLD.” You know: Just beginning to move from Late Middle Age into the very, very, very beginning of Old Age.

It starts off slowly and subtly: Pretty women no longer give you a second look. Heck, they don’t even give you a first look anymore. You fade into the background -– just a graying codger blocking their view of that HOT guy behind you.

That kinda hurts…

And unless you’re a man who’s been genetically blessed, your hair -– that one-time crown of glory atop your skull –- has started to thin if not disappear altogether.

And unless you’re a dedicated gym rat, your bod is starting to slowly crumble. Oh, you can forestall it for a while, but it’s gonna happen no matter how many sit-ups you do.

I used to jump up off the couch without a care. Now, I hear creaking and crackling as I slowly rise to my feet.

More warning signs of becoming OLD:

You stop going to concerts. They’re too loud, too expensive and too much hassle. And you have to be around a bunch of obnoxious strangers who really have no respect for their elders. The young whipper-snappers!

You start going to bed about 9:30 and getting up about 5:30. Why? Because it just feels right somehow.

And let’s face it: “Cuddling” with your sweetie is not quite as thrilling as it used to be. Yes, you still love each other -– perhaps madly -– but there are many factors related to aging -– for both genders -– that make it difficult to get that excited very often anymore.

Then there’s obituaries. When we’re young, we hardly ever check out the obits. Nobody there we really knew or cared about. But at a certain point, obits become almost mandatory reading: How did Bob die? How old was he? Was he older -- or younger -- than me???

I’ve noticed that -– in general -– if someone dies who’s over 70, there often is NO cause of death given. Just “natural causes” is what’s implied.

They were just OLD -- and died of OLD AGE.

Look, many people live far past 70 –- some well into their 90s or beyond. Getting really old is just a crap shoot in many ways. We often hear about the young person who took great care of themself and simply conked out one day. And then there’s the person who lived life in the fast lane and still made it past 100.

I just hope when my time comes, I really am OLD and ready for my wings and harp. Till then, I’ll probably just keep clinging to my ever-changing “YOUTH-full mental image” of myself.

After all, “growing old gracefully” -– I’m discovering daily -– is a lot harder than it sounds.