I’ve had three experiences lately that have brought home the undeniable fact that I’m getting old. In December of last year, my daughter Tara turned 30. I know that 30 is some sort of aging milestone, especially I suppose for women, but it certainly puts her father’s age in perspective.
Now, as you can see, my daughter looks quite young (she’s the one on the right, with my wife Teresa on the left). Which brings me to the second recent event that highlights my age. My daughter and I were buying lift tickets at a ski resort in Japan. I realized that there was a discount for those age 55 or above. The Japanese, being literal as they many times are, called this the “old” discount. Not “senior”, or “silver haired”, or “wise”, just “old”. They happily gave me my “old” discount, and I asked for a second adult ticket. The clerk looked at my daughter with a puzzled look. “How old are you?”, she asked. “thirty”, “thirteen?”, “no, thirty”. Well, we have now established that I easily qualify for “old” and my daughter has a hard time convincing someone in Japan she doesn’t qualify for the junior discount.
Incident number three. My son Austin just got engaged to his lovely girlfriend of three years, Sarah.
He’ll be 23 in a couple of months. I was 23 when I got married. (see that young thing by my side?)
Time marches on. We get gray, sag here and there, and wrinkle. Yes, I’m getting old but I can’t help but feel that I still have some rich experiences ahead. I guess I can live a bit vicariously through my kids and other young people I’m in relationship with. And while I am slowing down, life is good and I have someone by my side that really “gets” me like no one else. I’m thinking old isn’t so bad.