Aging is only a number and blah, blah, blah.....

Birthdays, Schmirthdays.... They just don't feel as celebratory as they once did. If one likes cruel reminders once a year as to how your body is quickly grinding to a halt; they're just peachy-keen.

I turned 54 a few weeks ago. That is exactly ten years older than 44 (and that was a year prominently situated in middle age that appeared to have somewhat crisis oriented numerals.) Now I find myself in my mid-50s which is essentially 60, since six years will go by in a rheumy blink of an eye. And that little fact is not only wrong but uncalled for. I want my money back and a Botox special thrown in. In approximately 10 years I will be collecting Social Security (unless the Tea Party dumps it overboard) and receiving Medicare (unless the Tea Party yanks it too and forces us to barter with chickens for health care.) I mean, I will BE a senior citizen and most likely driving a K-Car while wearing over-sized sunglasses. R.E.M. will be playing on my car speakers and I will be confused.

The process of aging is looked upon a bit overly optimistic. People always say "Oh, it's just a number...." Tell that to my mother who turned 92 this past summer and has no choice but to take a daily water pill and scoot back and forth in her walker several times to the bathroom because she has neuropathy in her feet. Congestive heart failure requires her to keep her lungs clear, thus the need to release moisture from her body. She wears two hearing aids, has a shoulder that is a constant aggravation and must be on oxygen at night to keep her O2 levels up during the day. She tires easily after enjoying lunch with friends and must return for at least a 45 minute nap. But, it's only a number. A number that is a lot different than 36 or even 76, in her case. Luckily her mind is good and she has most of the personality she had when I was a kid. In some ways it is a curse too because she knows exactly what her limitations are and it can be very frustrating. I admire her tenacity. Giving up would have been easy but she pile drives on. Per perseverance has a deep well.

I guess age does bring some fringe benefits. You get called "Sir" a lot. That's kind of fun. Next year I will get a discount on the menu at Denny's. I can correct people in their 20s when they are trying to be authorities on anything before 1975. For instance, one day I was talking about the night the Beatles were on Ed Sullivan. The kids were impressed until I wandered into other guests I had also seen on the show like Mrs. Miller and Topo Gigo. The last two caused them to feign checking text messages.

Oh sure, it could be worse. It can always be worse. Even my mother can say that. Still, it is not a process I am readily willing to accept. Not yet. Once my body completely sags and black socks with crocks are my favorite shoe wear then maybe I can give in a bit. Until then I will keep 'Just for Men' in business, moisturize myself intravenously and maybe get away with looking 42 in candle lit rooms.

So, here's what I'm left with.....one 'wicked' and inspiring act (As in Elphaba sings to Glinda.) "I think I'll try defying gravity and you can't pull me down!"