Undeniable signposts on the road to old age

By PETER MIKELBANK, Special to the Times
Published March 27, 2007

When I was young, I used to think of getting older as a gentle bell curve. Now, I've recognized it as an onrushing train.

I used to think of my golden years as an opportunity, a reward - the unhurried time in life in which to explore finer Bordeaux and single malt whisky, to cash Social Security checks and to finally read the classics.

Instead, I now realize daily that I'm a growing connoisseur of antacids, have acquired a preference for Mylanta, and most likely will be taking a subsistence part-time job at Hardware Mart ("Attention Aisle Six! We need someone who can lift a hammer!").

And about the only thing I have time to read are the labels on an ever-growing assortment of prescription meds.

The truth is that I've passed 55 and like all baby boomers, I'm suddenly facing up to the one unavoidable fact: If you've survived until now, you've gotten older, and with any luck, you have even further to go.

Age has crept up on me - perhaps it does on all of us, really. Maybe it came on while I was sleeping off the Reagan years, or out repurchasing my record collection as they were issued on CDs. During Clinton's impeachment, maybe.

Most likely it was that moment when all teachers, cops, doctors, soldiers, everyone in crowds suddenly became "kids."

And aging is happening to all of us still.

Like most of my proud generation, I'm in pretty good shape. I think I look 47 and that I will forever because I've tried to stay in shape, stay in tune with the times, stay young.

Yet I've noticed several of my attitudes transforming. I no longer "dis" certain subjects out of hand as merely "something for old folks."

Instead, I listen with keen interest when knee surgery, Botox or Denny's enters the conversation.

I've begun listing indicators - some natural, some cultural - that suggest what the sociologists might term my "senior years" are in unswerving and undeniable approach.

For example:

- I don't own an iPod. I do have a hearing aid.

- Now, my barber is younger than I am.

- I've started looking at what times films begin playing, concentrating on the first show of the day.

- It strikes me odd that there hasn't been a Doris Day film out recently.

- When I watch black-and-white films on television, I often recall where I saw them originally played. And I call out the names of favorite actors, such as Jack Elam, Buddy Ebsen or "that guy who played Sheriff Lobo."

- When the anniversary rolls around, I reflect on just how young Elvis was when he died.

- I pay lip service to MTV's Real World and to rap music while secretly watching Wheel of Fortune.

- I have used the Internet to contact old girlfriends. Some have e-mailed me back. They include pictures of their grandkids . . . graduating law school.

- I miss Eisenhower. I really do.

- Occasionally I apparently become invisible when asking for help in stores.

- I've ceased having carpool duty of any kind. I am using the time to repaint spare rooms and to reorganize the closet where I keep my 8mm, eight-track and cassette collections.

- Last weekend, I wondered openly "why the kids haven't called."

- I don't care if those people stay Lost forever. It's their problem, not mine. My problem is that no one I ask can recall what happens "when the weekend comes . . ." in the Happy Days theme song.

- I still read the newspaper and keep a highlighter nearby. I resist reading the news online, telling myself that newspapers publish obituary pages - those online thingies don't - and I like to keep up with what's happening to my friends.

- Increasingly, I find myself using the phrase: "When I was young . . ."

Peter Mikelbank is a freelance journalist living in Paris.

[Last modified March 27, 2007, 08:27:14]