A couple weeks ago I celebrated an important day in my life – my birthday. Well, it used to be an important day to me, but nowadays not so much.
It still seems to be an important day to my family and some of my friends, but if truth be told, nowadays, it’s just like any other day to me.
I stopped keeping track of my age about six years ago, and it’s not because I was never very good at math. It’s because I honestly don’t feel my age.
In my mind, I still feel like I’m in my youthful 40s. I seem to do a lot of things that other 40-something guys do. And I know this because that’s the age of my own kids and I’m pretty good at keeping up with them most of the time.
I work out almost every day and try to get in my three miles – even in this South Florida heat. On days I don’t walk, I’ll ride my bike.
I’m not saying I never feel my age. Of course I do. In fact, it happens every time I look in the mirror and see my father looking back. (I don’t know how in the world my father gets in my mirror all the time.)
I can even hear him saying to me, “Boy, it’s about time you start accepting how old you are.”
I answer him right back, “The heck it is.”
My wife Sharon finds it kind of strange when she sees me talking to the mirror all the time. I think she thinks I’m starting to losing it, and of course I never tell her I’m talking to her deceased father-in-law.
Sharon already thinks I’m crazy and has thought that for years. She chalks it up to the years serving my country in Vietnam. I try to tell her that I was like this way before Vietnam, but she doesn’t buy it.
I also feel my true age whenever I visit my doctor. It seems that every time I go for a checkup, my doctor finds something else wrong with me.
I often wonder if I should just stop with all these doctor visits. I actually have some friends who avoid doctors and they appear to be quite healthy and happy. Maybe ignorance is bliss, but I’m very seriously thinking about joining them.
My bank seems to know how long I’ll hang around better than my doctor. According to the bank, my life expectancy at this point says I have another 27½ years of making Sharon’s life miserable. (She keeps asking the bank to re-check the numbers.)
Sometimes, after coming out of my doctor’s office I feel I’ll be lucky if I have another 27½ days to live. I enjoy life too much right now, so checking out isn’t even on my mind.
I will admit, however, that I’m starting to feel a lot more aches and pains than I have ever felt before. I think I’ve done a pretty decent job of learning to manage the pain pretty well, so it doesn’t bother me too much.
Now, Sharon has decided that we need to eat dinner at 5 p.m. instead of 6:30 p.m. like we always have. I guess this is good news because now we can make all the early bird specials with those older folks.
There I go again – I am one of those older folks.
As I mentioned earlier, I’m only as old as I feel, so I have no problems sharing my real age with my loyal readers.
I just turned … wait a minute, I just got an awful cramp in my writing hand. Oh well, at least I tried.