A Portrait of the Writer as an Older Man.
This is me 25 years ago. Young, fit, not a gray hair on my face.
I’ve been looking at this picture a lot lately, and wondering how I went from that to…. this:
What happened to me?
I’ll tell you what happened. I got old.
Plain and simple. I got old.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with being old. We all get old. Every single one of us. A lot of great people got old.
So why do I stare at this old picture of myself and belly ache over it?
Am I vain? Probably. Not a good trait in a man, huh?
Yesterday I was at Modell’s to buy a new pair of sneakers and when the kid asked me what I was looking for, I said “Just a pair of black shoes but nothing flashy.” Nothing flashy? My grandfather used to say that!
Okay being old does have its advantages. People say that with age comes wisdom and experience.
My wife, Lori loves my beard, though.
And my son, Jake, he worships the ground I walk on. He doesn’t mind that Daddy has a big tummy. Jake loves his Daddy’s belly and often giggles maniacally as he tries to get me to jiggle it like a bowl of Jelly. He just loves the Truffle Shuffle.
It’s really cute actually. You’ve got to see it. It’s Pretty funny.
I don’t know what I’m whining about. The late comedian George Carlin had it right. He had a whole routine about getting old . You know what his answer was. He wasn’t getting old. He was just getting OLDER.
Older. That sounds a whole lot better. Doesn’t it? Now, I don’t feel so bad anymore?
What am I getting at?
Oh yeah. According to George, there are lot of benefits to getting older. But there’s one benefit that trumps them all. And my favorite aunt Brenda could sum it up in one sentence, “Jason,” she’d say, “what’s the alternative?”