By March end, I’ll be turning 63.
Wow...that sounds weird.
I mean, besides the odd, crooked number, “turning” seems to indicate at some point I’ll undergo some sort of magical transformation.
As if a circle of starlight will surround and infuse my being with 63-ness.
Wisdom of 63 will fill my head and another slice of the unknown will suddenly become known.
Such as, why Instagram is essential to the health of my social media profile.
And the revelation that Lady Gaga and Pink are really the same person.
I don’t know.
We all make such a big deal about age...especially when we have a bit of it on us.
But isn’t that a good thing?
According to today’s quote from my pal Shinkei, “One cannot be certain of living even into the evening....”
But if you eat Big Macs every day, you probably already knew that.
I like to think it’s not so much about “turning” 63, than “earning” 63.
All those successful days of living, earned.
All the smiles and the tears.
All the courage and the fears.
Friends made...friends lost.
Challenges won...challenges undone; all that got us to where we stand today...or sit if our backs start acting up, again.
Finding a few more grey hairs doesn’t make me older; even if they’re growing in odd places I never knew hair could grow.
Herniating a few more discs in my thoracic spine from over aggressive showering doesn’t mean anything.
I really don’t feel any different than I did when I was 23, but of course my memory is getting a little fuzzy.
I’ve always thought, as long as I keep my mind lean and flexible, the rest of me will follow.
Think young, stay young.
Think old, grow mold.
It’s the secret old tries to convey to young...but young never hears, mostly because they’re too busy honking their horns, the second we get distracted by a cool looking cloud at the traffic light.
When we wish we were 23 again, do we really want to go through all that 23-ness again, or are we just wishing we could impart our experiences, now earned, into ambitions, once yearned?
Do we really want to live through bell bottoms and polyester again?
8 Track tapes and Captain and Tenille?
Phones tied to the wall that gave not a clue as to who was calling, forcing us to actually talk to people?
Trying to decipher driving directions mapped out on a napkin, by the short order cook at the diner...“Make a left at the meatloaf stain...”?
Uh, uh...no thank you.
Instead of wondering what the future holds and worrying how to get there, without missing an episode of Charlie's Angels... I’m actually living in the future, now, with a large flat screen TV and a computer in my pocket...even though I still wear
the same style sneakers and jeans.
the same style sneakers and jeans.
Now, I can stream the Angels anytime I want...which, now that I think of it, kind of sounds a little naughty.
And while 23 was nice, I’m sure at the time I thought, not as nice as 13...or even better 3, when I didn’t have to tie my own shoes.
So I’m cool with what and where I am.
I’m not Solomon, but I’m a lot wiser than I was... I think...maybe.
I only order half as much stuff on HSN as I used to...but that Frankie Valli collection does look enticing.
Young is great, but getting older is even better...plus you get the discounts.
Besides, I’m still only 62...at least for another month. I try to spend a lot of time with friends who are significantly older.
I get a kick out of watching them struggling to go up and down stairs without making funny noises.
It keeps me young....
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