Friday, January 13, 2012

I turn 60 today (or was it yesterday ... hell, I can't remember)

Today I enter my 7th decade of  life and I don’t even remember getting here. In the blink of an eye, I have been shoved from middle-age right into senior citizenship. I have become invisible and irrelevant to those that are selling beer, cool cars, skin and hair products, outdoor equipment, and a vast array of  campaigns aimed at a younger crowd. I am now the target audience of Depends, Geritol, denture creams, Scooter Chairs, and all the medical life-line gadgets.

Once I was hip, cool, rad, hot, (OK maybe not so hot) but overnight I have now become an old coot, a codger, a curmudgeon, a cranky old man. I can no longer walk along a beach and stare at  the  girls in bikinis without being tagged as a old pervert. 

Turning 60 was like being in a downhill slide on frozen pavement; You see everything coming but you can’t avoid crashing into it.

In 60 years, lots of things have happened in my life, happy things, very sad things, very important things. When I reflect on my life, what comes to mind is that I have been extremely lucky and blessed with what I have experienced.

What I have seen: The first space launch, Landing on the Moon, Inventing the color TV, Computers, Cell Phones, the list could go on and on.

Where did the time go? I don't feel any older. I still recognize the person in the mirror. It's just that the person I remember didn't have all that gray hair.

Anyway, today is the day, ….. and I really don’t feel any different than I did yesterday. The same old aches are still there, I still can’t read without my glasses, I still take the same amount of pills, and I better not hear one person say ….. You're at the prime of your life or These prelude the golden years, so have fun, or You should be all set now or You are as young as you feel. If I do, they are going to see how a 60 –year old man can whip their ass!

So what, … I’m 60 …. To hell with everybody, I’ll wear the rubber pants, ride the scooter chair, get dentures, comb my hair over, wear that life-line gadget around my neck, and be tagged an old pervert! The alternative seems to be worse. 

I have to go now, …. Need to clean the drool off of my keyboard.

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