Exhibit A: I'll be 29 later this year and I have a wife and child and career; that means I'm getting old...slowly gaining speed like a sled at the top of a hill in the winter time (wait...top of the hill? Like the hill you are over when you're old? and what does it mean that I used winter? like the winter of my life? Oh man...). When you get to be 28 or 29, it's harder to remember your age. Why does it matter? You're out of milestones really: 5, 8, 12, 13, 16, 18, 19, 21. After that your milestones are really on the 10's and you begin thinking of marriage milestones instead. I can't even remember how old I am half the time. I have to calculate my age every time someone asks me because it doesn't really matter to me anymore. 25, 27, 28...were they really any different?
Exhibit B: As a sports fan, I usually associate certain players with past eras or decades. Players like Babe Ruth, Ted Williams and Jackie Robinson were all historic figures and in the Hall of Fame long before I was born. I learned about their careers through stats, books and documentaries, like I would WWII or the invention of the wheel. I've noticed in the last couple of years, that I have witnessed BOTH ends of a few Hall of Fame careers! I remember when Shaq was drafted. I remember Ken Griffey Jr's rookie year. Between my first little league game and the time G is velcro-ing on his first pair of cleats, Major League Baseball will have had 100% turnover! G will be asking for stories of Manny Ramirez, Albert Pujols, and why Barry Bonds' head was so big. Scary.
Exhibit C: I can feel myself starting to really prepare for fatherhood. I'm looking ahead to when G starts asking for explanations; the 'how' and 'why,' deep questions. Things like "Dad, how do you really tell when buttermilk goes bad?' or 'Where did doughnuts get their name, Dad? They're made out of dough, sure, but they don't look like nuts.' I need to be prepared for that kind of stuff! Currently, I have absolutely no idea how to answer, and the fact that I even have to worry about it makes me feel a little old.
When I really think about it, there's really nothing that bad about getting old though. The shape of my torso will slowly shift in appearance from apple to pear, and someday G will outrun me. My future mustache (right babe?) will slowly lose its color. My car will get bigger. But in the end, at least I'll have someone wonderful to share it with and my food at Denny's will be cheaper! Being old won't be so bad.