Getting Older Gracefully or Not

As I approach my 50^th birthday this year, I find myself thinking more and more about age, specifically mine. It’s not the birthday that bothers me so much as it is this person who is there in the mirror when I brush my teeth. IT”S NOT ME! I know me better than anybody, and I can tell you that old guy is not me. My sense of self, that stream of consciousness that sits between my eyes and ears, knows exactly who he is….He is 5’9’’ with long brown hair, a brown mustache, brown eyes, fine build and big smile; not Fabio, but not a bad catch after a lady has had a few drinks. My self just cannot understand who the hell is the pot-bellied old fart with the thinning white hair, and what is he doing in front of the sink when I floss. It is kind of distressing. If you told anybody that you were being followed by a senior citizen who only let’s himself be seen in bathrooms, then they would have you locked up. So, I will just vent here rather than report this stalking to the authorities. I am not scared. He is old and flabby….I can take him.

Seriously, I know I am aging, but for some reason, I have not incorporated the new me into my self image. Every now and then, I get a reality check. For example, when I moved three years ago, I had to get a new driver’s license. I checked off all the pertinent identifying information – 5’9’’, brown hair, brown eyes…. The lady at the counter looked at my application, looked at me, and then scratched out “brown hair” and put down “grey”. Faen. (I am told that Faen is a Norwegian word that means Satan, but can be substituted in context for pretty much any 4-letter word you would prefer. What the faen!)

Another reality check is when others confuse or categorize me with people who are definitely over the hill. This happened to me just last month. I boarded a plane from Baltimore, and I got the isle seat. There were three seats on my row, and also a row of two seats on the other side of the plane. Anyway, there was an old man sitting in the window seat on my row. I proceeded to put my stuff in the overhead compartment and sat with my computer in my lap while waiting for the person in the middle seat to arrive. I knew that as soon as I took my computer out of the case, the person would show up, so I was thinking ahead. What old person thinks ahead? So this black lady approaches my row and says “I am in the middle.” I stood up to let her in, and then proceeded to whip out my computer. Well, once she got comfortable in her seat, this lady called somebody on her cell phone. She said “Hi, I’m on the plane.” There was a moment of silence, and then she whispered very quietly “Can you hear me?” Then even more quietly still, she said “Two old men.” My ears perked up even more, and then she said “White.” At that point, I knew without a doubt that she was referring to me and that old fart by the window. Geezz. But, to make things just that much worse, she then whispered the killer word into her cell phone

“Stinky.”

I had to bite my tongue. I may be getting old, but I bathe regularly, and I resented the “stinky” remark. Anyway, the plane did not fill up, and the row of two seats to my right was empty. She asked to get by me, and then she went to sit in the window seat in that row. As fate would have it, some other white guy from a middle seat somewhere else on the plane plopped himself on her other side. He might not have been so old, but I think he was stinky, at least half way through the flight. Serves her right! As an aside, the old dude by the window in my row had his shoes off. Maybe he WAS stinky. Don’t know…. Just sayin’.

The coup de grace was when I was at my ma’s house this past weekend for Mother’s Day. At some point, the subject of hair color came up. My ma told me that “White hair looks distinguished on a man.” You know, people say that all the time, but it is really bullshit. A big wad of cash in one’s wallet; now that’s distinguished. Winning a Nobel Prize, writing a best selling novel, winning an academy award for best horror movie make-up and special effects are all distinguished. Having white, thinning hair…..nada. At some point, my ma asked me “Why don’t you grow your hair out….it’s so short.” I told her that there isn’t that much left to grow, and she replied “I told you not to wear that baseball cap so much.” Maybe she was right! When I was in college, I used to wear this dark navy ball cap wherever I went. My ma used to always tell me that “If you keep wearing that stupid hat, your hair is going to fall out.” She was right. Faen. Look at Cal Ripken Jr. for more evidence. Faen. If there are any college students reading this stupid blog, then take my advice. Listen to your parents or your hair will fall out.

People always use the phrase “grow old gracefully.” I’ve used it, and you probably have too. I am not sure I ever really knew what it meant though. I think it means to accept aging and the changes and limitations that come with it and make the best out of your life. I intend to do exactly that. My body may be changing, and I may not remember things as well as I used to, but I am not going to let that interfere with leading a full, healthy life. I am, however, going to beat the shit out of that old man if he follows me into the bathroom one more time.

Best Wishes,
Dr. JimBob