Web Posted: 06/21/2009 12:00 CDT
Cary Clack: With age comes ... AARP
The white stuff on my arms wouldn't come off.
Calm down, now, some of you. I'm not getting racial, talking about the blood of white ancestors coursing through my veins. I'm talking about the white stuff on my veins. I don't eat powdered doughnuts, so it couldn't be that.
I kept trying to brush it off, but it wouldn't come off. Then I realized that the same white stuff was in my hair — and it wasn't dandruff — and it was in my mustache. And I couldn't brush it from those places, either.
So I couldn't fool myself any longer. The white stuff was/is gray hair. Back in my 20s and 30s, it was cute to find that first gray hair. Now I hope to be cute as I slowly but surely get a little grayer.
I'm getting older. The signs have steadily been revealing themselves to me.
The genuine giddiness I get when given new pairs of socks and underwear.
Those first 20 seconds walking when getting out of bed in the morning.
For the first time, my president and my mayor are young? er than me.
The . . . wait, excuse me: "YOU KIDS GET OUT OF MY YARD NOW! SO WHAT IF I'M WEARING SHORTS WITH DRESS SHOES AND BLACK SOCKS?"
Dance floors have been kind to me and me to them, but lately I find myself violating Midnight Star's warning, "No Parking on the Dance Floor." If the song goes a little too long, I park it until I can get a little more gas to continue.
Music? Used to dip into all the radio stations and watch all the music video channels like BET, MTV and VH-1. Now, all of the music I listen to is on CDs. I used to know what the Top 10 or 20 songs in the country were, but the other day, I saw a list of the Top 5 and recognized only one, and that was because it's always playing in my gym.
Two weeks ago, I said something I never thought would come out of my mouth: "I don't know what the kids are listening to today." That used to be me! I used to be a kid!
For several months, I've been resisting AARP's e-mail offers to become an associate member. I'm not 50, I protested.
But the truth is, in little more than a year I will be. (If I make it to 50, we're going to party like it's, well, 2010. I would party like it's 1999, but my body can't do some of the things it did in 1999, such as dancing without parking on the dance floor.)
Last week, AARP (which is only two years older than me) sent me another enrollment offer. I must admit I was enticed by the free stylish travel bag I'd get for signing up.
So Thursday morning, after realizing that it was too painful and time-consuming to pluck out all my gray hairs, I became an associate member of AARP.
I told my mother, "You must feel old knowing your son is almost 50."
She answered, "You must feel old being almost 50."
Now, why do I have to wait to get my discount at Denny's and Jim's?
Cary Clack's column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. To leave him a message call (210) 250-3486 or e-mail email@example.com.
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