ch-ch-changes

I am maturing. That strikes me as kind of funny because, in a certain sense, you continue maturing, then you die. I guess the right term is “aging.” I am aging.

I am not terribly upset about it. It’s been a couple of months since my birthday, and that one was a big, round number. The day before, I was 49, then I was 50. No difference, really. 

The other day, I bruised my leg. Suddenly, I was 12 again, playing little league, and having some slight injury. “Walk it off, Slugger!” So, I walked it off. It helped, but the magic of walking it off must have faded, somehow. The next day, I was limping through the airport, quite unhappy about it. When I focused on it, the limp would be barely noticeable, but then my attention wandered and I was gimpy again. Good old Advil, some rum and some time and everything was back to normal. Not “good as new,” but normal.

I remember being very concerned about parenting when I was younger, before the boys. What kind of father would I be? There was so much to do; so much to learn. Helping out in what small ways I could during the pregnancy was a chore, what would it be like when that alien was born? When the bun was in the oven, I got down to business. I had just 9 months to become the perfect father. What I didn’t figure out right away was: you only need to learn to be a father to an infant; I had plenty of time to figure out how to talk to my teenagers about sex, drugs and rock & roll. Everything in its season.

(By the way, the parenting book that I read back then is likely banned and burned in this 21^st century. Times change!).

Aging is a little like that, too. This may surprise some, but I have noticed changes in my body. By and large, these changes are annoying. At first, I ignored these changes and occasionally paid the price. Growing older is like preparing to be a father: there is plenty of time to adjust, and it really only needs to be mastered gradually. Again, not really upset, just realistic. To tell you the truth, I am very happy. I almost said “the happiest in my life,” but you’re a dick if you wax poetic about your kids moving out. Let just say, I am happy and it is a different kind of happy than being a new father. Both seem(ed) natural for my age.

Although there do not seem to be any perks with aging, “being older” comes with some benefits, and I’ve learned to take advantage of those benefits. Mostly it’s just efficiency. The very best perks are associated with work. Dye the white out of my beard? Heck no! In fact, since I am now a fan of sunscreen, I notice it whitens it more. I have cultivated a serious, don’t-bother-questioning-just-obey look. I have to be careful not to smile when it works, though. The positives of being older dovetail nicely with a lot of the other stuff that is going on in my life. I like puttering around the empty house. I like having the time to garden. I love vacations and traveling! 

Aging: different, gradual, inevitable, not all bad…