Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go. ~Henry Austin Dobson
As I prepare to turn the calendar page over to June, I can hardly believe that this year is almost halfway over. They seemingly go by more and more quickly than ever.
Seriously, it’s now five months into 2013, and I am still hesitant about writing that date on checks and documents, etc. 2013? Is it really 2013?
(note to young people: checks are a paper financial transaction, of which you are likely unaware, given your smarty pants phones that debit your bank accounts instantaneously.)
Those famous experts, “they” say the reason the years seem to pass more quickly as one ages is that it’s a function of a year’s being a smaller and smaller percentage of one’s life span. I guess there is some truth to that, but honestly, time does go by at the same speed for everyone.
However, it sure seemed like it took a long time for me to grow up and go to college. I know for a fact that it didn’t take that long for Shannon to do the same.
Sheesh, our high school’s 40th reunion is this summer. What? How can we be old enough to have a 40th high school reunion? In my mind, I am still young enough to be somewhat “cool”, that is, fit and active, not frumpy or dowdy. NOT OLD.
I had to laugh when a friend recently posted on her Facebook page a list of places where people who are 55 years old and older can ask for senior discounts. Much like we proudly displayed our ID’s at the liquor store when we turned 21, now we can (proudly?) display our ID’s to claim our senior discounts. Dare I?
Because as the calendar pages continue to turn over, I must finally face up to the fact that I am not getting any younger. It’s getting harder and harder to keep up appearances, and certainly taking me longer to do so! Soon there will come a tipping point at which I will have to accept geezer status and be at peace with it. Actually, I think it will be somewhat of a relief to not have to try to look 20 years younger than I actually am.
Some people resort to drastic measures to maintain that youthful edge, but that’s not for me. I can usually (almost always) tell when someone has had plastic surgery, and something about it always bothers me. Is it the vanity of it? Or the fact that it is so evident that they have had it? The answer to both questions is yes.
Gray hair? Not quite yet. One of my sisters has gone gray (and it looks great on her!), but Joel says he’s not ready to be married to someone with gray hair. What’s good for the gander apparently isn’t OK for the goose. All right then, but I will be mindful that there will come a day when it looks artificial. And that will be that.
What I want most of all is to be a happy geezer, that is, if I am privileged enough to make it that far. A smile and a jaunty attitude is what I’m aiming for. Who cares what I look like if I laugh a lot?
You’ll just have to keep reminding me what year it is, because I just can’t remember.