49 and a Half.

 The thing is – I don’t feel “old”.

I feel like I could still do a pretty decent cartwheel. Like I could knock out a 5K tomorrow if I had to. I feel like my taste in music is broad enough to still be one of the cool kids. I feel like my closet is hip enough to pass as “chill” and not as someone that is trying too hard.

I don’t even really feel like I’m from here – although I’ve lived here for half of my life. Sometimes I still feel like the new guy, even though I’m not. Half my life? Wow – I must be getting Old.

I can hang. I can still party – if I had to. I feel like I can still play the game…whatever game – baseball, hockey, whatever. I can still chuck the old pigskin around. I think.

I’m not set in my ways – the old-fashioned ways…. the way we have always done things. I can adapt and change with the new-fangled things in life – modern technology – new methods – new philosophies.

I think.

Except – I don’t do spreadsheets. Excel or Google Docs. I haven’t figured out how to set up a Group Chat or even talk to Siri. I’d still print out driving directions if Michele would let me. The only Bluetooth ear buds I own are my new hearing aids. Yeah, I said it. Hearing Aids. Like Old People have… and my taste in music? There are two cases of cassette tapes in the basement that I refuse to get rid of because I think it’ll make a cool Arts & Crafts activity sometime. – even though most of those artists are played on the Classic radio stations anymore. And that cartwheel? Don’t bet on it. My shoulder hurts. I may have torn my rotator cuff. So, I probably can’t throw a football or chuck a baseball very far…not without pain anyway. I could maybe play “the game” but I’d be sore as Hell afterwards. I eat Aleve like M&M’s.

I’m 49 and a Half.

My back hurts. My kids make fun of the way I dance. When those Progressive commercials come on about You-Turning Into Your Parents, Michele and the kids point at me and laugh. At work I talk in terms of 5–10-year spans or more. On the depth chart, not only am I on the front page, but I’m an elder. #8 on the seniority list or some shit like that. I remember what it was like here way back when.

And those hearing aids… yeah, that was a shot to the ego. But a move that I think my wife appreciates.

You know – I go back and forth – sometimes I feel like a Spring chicken…. spry and full of piss and vinegar and then other times I feel the steady geriatric decline of gravity pulling at my everything.

Hell….at least I aint 50 yet.

That’s in 3 days.