There’s a Payoff in Joining the Senior Set

I did it. After waiting for more than a year, I finally bit the bullet. I did what millions of others nobly have done before me: I traded in my baby boomer status for a discounted ticket at the movies. Not any discount, mind you, a senior citizen discount.

You got that right. A senior citizen discount. When I actually got up the nerve to ask for one, my 10-year-old daughter said, “Dad, you really are old.” Truth be known, she didn’t just say it. She shouted it so everyone in line could hear.

But I didn’t care. I had walked up to the line and crossed over it like a proud soldier. After years of marching, I was ready to receive my just reward. So I asked for it. I didn’t really think much about it on the way to the movies -- at least not consciously. Subconsciously, I suspect I’d been thinking about it for a long time. That’s because my two older brothers, both of whom are in their mid-60s, have been telling me stories about their experiences for years.

Considering I’m a boomer from the “Sky King” days, it probably is fair to say that I, and my grade school classmates, have looked time straight in the eye -- and have begun to blink just a bit. My first real clue came not long ago when my girlfriend from the ninth grade called to tell me she is now a grandmother. “A grandmother? How’s that possible?” I asked. She laughed and told me to brace myself because it probably was going to happen to me someday.

If you really want to know, I am ready. My hair is gray around the temples; I have added a few pounds around my middle; I wear bifocals; and I fret about my retirement savings. My wife often complains that my “preoccupation” with aging is like waiting for a train wreck. That’s easy for her to say. She isn’t the one who drops loopy fly balls in the outfield or falls off the surfboard for no apparent reason. No, my reactions aren’t what they used to be. Still, I do react to the concept of growing o-l-d.

Not that old is bad. But old in this nation does tend to relegate one to a place called obscurity. Of all the new clothes, gizmos and gifts I recently received, the only present I really needed this year I actually gave to myself. It wasn’t under the Christmas tree. I found it at the mall, or more accurately, at the movie theater box office.

It was the realization that, after all these years, I truly am comfortable with the notion that I’m not going to be forever young. I have reached a certain stage in life where it not only is OK, it actually is great to be older -- and wiser.