Growing Older Like the Main Character in a Zombie Movie

I just got back from a family reunion. I enjoyed seeing distant cousins whose names I couldn’t remember. I just called them all “cuz.”

They called me the same thing, and we had a great time discussing things we’d done together…even though we couldn’t quite remember where we’d done them.

See, we’re at that awkward age. We’re old enough to consider retirement, but not old enough to think about complete face lifts.

I met one cousin who’s getting a face lift in sections, so he can afford to pay cash. He’ll look much better once they begin work on his left eyebrow.

One topic we discussed was how often younger people in retail situations refer to over-50-year-olds by folksy names like darling, sweetie, sugar, honey bun, or (my favorite) young man.

The same person who calls me “young man” may also speak to me loudly and slowly, like I have trouble processing words of more than one syllable. I really resent that, because I know several three syllable words, and I can even spell some of them.

I will admit I don’t look like I did when I was 30. I blame it on gravity. But in low-level lighting, I still look faintly presentable.

And even if I’m not the athlete I once was, I can still do several modified push-ups. And I can jog in place for up to three minutes without stumbling.

Hey, my hair may be grayer, and the wrinkle under my left eye a little deeper. (That’s the eye I use to wink.)

But I can still do simple arithmetic, and I can remember to leave a nice tip for a courteous waitperson who doesn’t treat me like the main character of a zombie movie.

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