Signs of The Age

The World is spending way too much time telling me I am old and on my decent to forgetfulness and oblivion. With any luck I will forget where I am going and never get there. That seems to work for me in my life now, though not when I want it to.

You would think Mr. World has enough other stuff going on that he doesn't need to bug me. Earthquakes, tsunami, wars and pestilence. But no, he has to pick on little ol' me.

Sometimes he is subtle. He leaves little clues to see if I am paying attention. This weekend I stopped at a little place called Broadbents to stretch my legs, hit the restroom and buy a snack of chocolate covered peanuts and almonds – required road food. The hand dryer in the restroom had a hand written sign on it saying, “Hit.” Apparently, there are people who have never used a button controlled hand dryer. I don't know about you, but after, oh, 32 minutes of waving my hands under a chrome vent with no hot air I might try hitting a 3 inch chrome button on the front of the machine, just to see what happens.

There are two points to notice here. First, there is a piece of machinery out there that I am old enough to have used but is antiquated enough to confuse people. Second, I have little patience for young people who can't use something I find easy to use. Lack of patience with young people is the second sign of age, right after a lot of birthdays.

Sometimes, World is less subtle. Eating a relaxed dinner at Joe's Crab Shack, I surveyed the knickknack and brickbat on the walls. Nets, life preservers, lobster traps, water skis, anything to do with water. And there it was. My ski. My at-the-time-state-of-the-art water ski hanging on the wall like a cheap antique. The ski I still have and would still try to use, if any of my friends were still young enough to water ski.

Again, two indicators of age. The prized possessions of my youth being displayed for decoration, clearly implying it is no longer of use, and knowing that my friends prefer a slower, more leisurely pace than a speed boat.

Sometimes World just smacks you in the face. I was lounging around a marina with several friends, waiting for the restaurant to open, when a man came in and asked, “Where is the young guy?” as if neither my friends nor I could be mistaken for young guys. I threw my hands to the sides, palms up, and called him on it saying, “Are you saying we couldn't be mistaken for young guys?” He didn't back down. He simply said, “Not quite,” and walked on.

Here, too, were two age indicators. First, the obvious dis' we received. Second, that we were waiting around for the restaurant to open. Can anyone say, “Early bird?” Can anyone say “Early bird” and not think old?

But it's okay. With age comes experience, and with experience comes skill and wisdom. Unlike many of my younger friends, I know I can hit the button to get hot air.

Or I can write hot air.