#838 Aging Thoughts

The other day I was reflecting on age. We live in such a fast paced, fast changing world that sometimes we are so busy just adapting we don’t have time to notice all the time that’s gone by.
No one likes to talk much about how old we’re getting. Such reflections are about as welcome as Brett Favre at a Wisconsin fondue party.
Like the other day, I heard that John McCain was 71 years old. Not long after that, I heard the Mick Jagger had turned 65.
Dude.
Mick Jagger is only 6 years younger than John McCain. My lovely sister is younger than me than Mick Jagger is younger than John McCain.
When Mick Jagger was 17, John McCain was 23. When I went to college at 17, there were upperclassmen who were 23.
Why do I suddenly feel so old?
Back then, they hadn’t even invented light beer. I hate light beer. What’s the point? Light beer is like the original bottled water. As one wag put it, light beer is for people who don’t like the taste of beer but apparently do like to use the bathroom a lot.
Discussions about the bathroom seem to be more frequent as you age too. As frequent as the times you visit the bathroom. For lots of guys it’s bathroom math, where the frequency of number one and the infrequency of number two is a hard equation to solve.
Natures little jokes. The call of nature is insistently ringing one second and “caller on hold” the next.
The crossover point to middle age, the first and most important sign that you’re no longer a the top of the hill but starting your mad rush of downhill doom, is that the word fiber occupies more of your thoughts than the word sex.
Remember those hotties that used to wear granny dresses in the sixties. They’re grannies in their sixties now.
Oh well. The aging process ends eventually.
And as another wag put it, when I die I want to go quietly in my sleep like my grandfather.
Not screaming like the passengers in his car.
America, ya gotta love it.