In reality, I AM old.
From time to time I hear about someone having a birthday and it jostles me into the realization once again that I have reached the age where I can see the end of the road.
I don't mean to sound maudlin about it so let me tell you of some of the people whose increasing age has affected me.
A few days ago Sean Connery became 86.
Can that possibly be?
I still think of him as the dashing young James Bond.
Ten days ago another handsome actor, Robert Redford, turned . . . wait for it . . . 80!
No, I can't believe that.
The blonde, blue-eyed actor who played The Sundance Kid in a movie I have seen multiple times?
But I've seen him a couple of times recently, too, and that once-smooth face . . . isn't . . . anymore.
Today once again I was jolted into recognizing my advanced years when I learned that a friend of many years, who I have always thought of as kind of a young whippersnapper, recently celebrated (if that is the correct term) his 70th birthday.
And I am more than half a decade older than he is.
Recently I've been treated for an arthritic left hip (with good results I'm happy to add) though the doctor told me I'll probably have to have it replaced some day.
I joked that I was too old for such a procedure.
He responded that I was just about the right age for it.
Ah well.
One of the current candidates for President is 70, the other is 68 and tomorrow one of my U.S. Senators will mark his 80th birthday.
And he's running for another six year term.
Maybe the 70's are the new 50's.
