Signs Of The Time
I got asked The Question the other day, and I never saw it coming.
Years of milestone marking, of noting moments and passages, and I walked into this one unaware. After chronicling firsts for 45 years -- first date, first job, first car -- laminating the past and bronzing shoes that carried me through the steps of life, this one flew under the radar and bit me on the butt. I was defenseless.
It's ironic, I guess, that it happened when I was buying dog food. I consider myself a good shopper, a coupon collector with a sharp eye for good deals and an awareness of what's in the cupboards at home, but when it comes to dog food I revert to stereotype. I'm like a guy buying pantyhose for his wife. I wander the pet store, just looking for something that seems familiar.
So I was distracted, maybe. I hefted the 20-pound bag onto my shoulder, which I'm sure impressed the young woman behind the counter to no end, and she rang it up and then asked the question.
"Are you, by any chance, over 55?"
It's not that I'm not used to condescension from young people, the sneer of ignorant youth who can't see that I'm a man in the prime of his life, with all his faculties and most of his hair. They ask, "Would you like help out to the car with that?" and I roll my eyes and shake my head (I can even go to the bathroom by myself now, I'm thinking, but they mean well).
This was a wake-up call, though, an alert to the inevitable. I can still walk on my own and there's not much gray in my hair, and I'm even vaguely aware of something called "hip-hop," but there's a senior signpost up ahead and no turning back. Welcome to the Twilight Zone.
I should have expected it. I've already experienced the Five Signs of Aging, documented long ago by the ancient Greeks, who I believe also invented the ancient Greek discount. These are:
Sound Effects. This is usually the first sign, appearing in our mid-30s, when any physical effort (getting up from a chair, sitting in a chair, opening a door, reaching for the remote, combing hair, etc.) is accompanied by a noise. In women, this is usually manifested by a sigh or a long "hmmm." Men tend to sound like coyotes having a bad day.
Low On Memory. This also arrives early in the aging process, manifested at first by the Missing Keys Phenomenon, rapidly progressing to a point when you don't remember where Kansas is or what socks are for. Names of friends and family are often the hardest, which we deal with by rapidly listing aloud every person we've ever known and hoping to find a match before bedtime.
Driving Miss Daisy. This is hardest for men, who grew up thinking that car manufacturers didn't put all those numbers on the speedometer just, you know, for show. When this happens varies widely, but eventually we all come to the realization that we're approaching a 15-MPH school zone and we don't have to use the brakes. We take our time, see the sights and stop to smell the roses. At the rate we're going, we can actually pick the roses from the window while we're driving, not to mention write a letter, stretch our legs, invent something, etc. All this while keeping our turn signal on continuously. Because we have to turn eventually.
Watch and Learn. It offends us to have 100 channels and not use some of them, so a good portion of the day is spent in front of the television, watching anything and everything but especially golf and home improvement shows, which is our way of getting exercise. My wife, for example, will watch curling for hours, a Canadian sport apparently invented by someone who either lost a bet or was drunk. We also watch large chunks of "Matlock" and tell ourselves that it was pretty good (I'm extrapolating a little from the ancient Greeks, loosely translating Matlock from "Cicero," but you get the point).
Turn Down The Music. And it's not just the volume. We don't understand the lyrics, we don't like the lyrics when we can understand them, and everything seems suggestive and profane. Which, of course, is the way we liked it when we were 16. Now we prefer static, as long as it's on mute. This, by the way, is the final sign of aging. There's no going back once you complain about the music.
So, watch for these signs carefully, and when they start to appear kill yourself.
No, no, that's a joke. It's just part of life. Not the good part, but part. And you're only as young as you feel. I feel young right now, having made fun of all the rest of you. I'm listening to hip-hop right now. Real loud. And I'm going to drive real fast to the pet store next time.
But I'm going to need help out to the car with the dog food. Twenty pounds is heavier than it used to be. I think it's the metric system, or some damn thing.
10:56:34 AM 
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