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© St. Petersburg Times, published November 20, 2001
I survived the slap in the face a few years ago when the optometrist finished his examination and said, "You're getting old."
The words that came out of his mouth actually were more like "You're at that age where you need to go with bifocals," but the realist in me cut through his tact and heard him -- a doctor, no less -- tell me I'm old.
But I survived that.
My fortitude was tested again a year later when my son conspired to get me into what is probably the world's most notorious association of old men: grandfathers.
But I survived that -- twice. Mostly through denial, as I look back on it.
I consoled myself with reassurance that I could do things that old men couldn't. I could probably still outrun my son the way I could 10 years ago, I tell myself, were it not for that problem with my back that started a few years ago and keeps me from hitting stride the way I used to.
But just wait till that goes away.
Old men forget stuff. I still know everything I ever learned, I assured myself, I just can't think of what it's called sometimes. That's not the forgetfulness that befalls old folks; that's just absent mindedness.
I still like long walks, the way I did when I was a boy, it's just that with maturity, and bad feet, I spend the time I used to fill with daydreams thinking about serious things like how long the return trip will be.
I could even rationalize the introductory letter a couple of years ago from AARP. Obviously, they had made some sort of administrative mistake.
Lately, though, that reassuring denial has been harder to come by. My attempts keep getting beaten down. I once attempted to describe a subject of one of my columns as a "young man," but my mean, young editor thwarted that with a subtle "He's 45 years old, isn't he?"
The "over the hill" birthday cards that used to be funny aren't as clever anymore. Maybe the writers have lost their touch.
But the greatest denial buster happened last week. The person I still consider a child started getting over-the-hill cards. My son turned 30. The inevitable question still is looking for an answer: If he is over the hill, where in the world am I?
Maybe there's a second hill.
Maybe old age starts later now than it used to.
Maybe age is just a number. Yeah, right. Then perhaps a psychologist can explain why some numbers, take 51 for instance, cause more anxiety than others, such as, say, 21.
I become angry when I catch myself thinking about age. It is such a trivial preoccupation. In practical terms, I know it is just a measure of how long I've been here. In practical terms, I know its limitations are only those I allow it to have. I know there aren't many things of any worth that I could do when I was younger that I can no longer do.
But none of that knowledge stops my consternation when I wonder why is that old man saying "yessir" to me?
I have likely caused the same consternation in others because I have grown older while managing to avoid becoming grown. I still say "sir" and "ma'am" to grown people, sometimes before noticing that they're probably younger than I am. I still defer to grown people in conversation, expressing disagreement gently and only with great reluctance, and only when some issue of great importance is in question.
I have never felt deserving of the privilege to which I have always felt old people are entitled. I don't want any. I don't want packages carried for me. I don't want anyone to get up so I can have their seat. I don't want to be ushered ahead of anyone in line so I won't have to stand so long.
One day, though, I will be old, and will appreciate, even expect, such concessions and get downright indignant if I don't get them. I don't know when that transformation will take place or how. Perhaps when I'm old -- really old -- I'll know it. Maybe I'll wake up one morning with old age, the way you wake up with a cold.
Or maybe my rationalizations will just become more sophisticated: Old age starts later. I could still run fast if I didn't have to drag this walker with me. My memory is still good: I just haven't used it in a long time.
Whatever the denial demands, and whenever those demands are called, I am confident I'll be up to the task. I already have experience.
Imagine how much I'll have when I get old.