The past week has been a strange one. All of a sudden, I have gotten to see a bunch of old friends from college. Boy, they all have gotten so old. I am sure they must have been embarrassed to be around me and realize I am the one who IS exactly the same as when we were in school together. Ok, ok, maybe I have changed a little bit. It is especially nice to run across old friends to remind me of the past--and my future and certain, imminent death. Getting old is a tough job, but I guess somebody’s gotta do it. Pretending I am some motivational speaker with my own late-night cliche’-laden infomercial; here is my advice on how to get through it.

“Growing Old Doesn’t Mean You Have to Grow Mold!!” There is an old joke that says, “You know you are getting old when your self-winding watch stops working.” I am showing my age just by recounting that joke, because self-winding watches went out with pet rocks and the arrival of Don Knotts on “Three’s Company.” Nevertheless, the key to staying young is staying active and never slowing down.

Here are some pointers: When picking up your socks around the house, bend at the waist. Stop wishing in the back of your mind, that everywhere you went, you had one of those extension, grabber tools. Stop trying to pick up your socks with your toes and kick them up in the air and catch them like a mad stork. Add other little workouts to your lifestyle too, like, do 20 repetitions each with your remote. Do Lazy-Boy calisthenics by repeatedly pumping the arm to lie back, raise up. Lie back, raise up. When showering, don’t just, “lather, rinse, repeat.” Lather, rinse, repeat and repeat again!!

“When You’re Over the Hill You Pick Up Speed.. And Then Can’t Control the Crash!!” It seems people’s personalities intensify or “let go” when they get older. This is why your Aunt Myrtle in the nursing home curses like a sailor now. Or, why Uncle Dave likes to dress up in Aunt Cathy’s clothes. I know this is becoming more true with me. Well, not the dressing up in woman’s clothes quite yet, but still I find myself become more passionate or upset about the more simple things. I suddenly find myself on a rant and a rampage just because they changed the kind of paper they wrap their hamburgers in at McDonald’s. I have become my retired father and now relate everything to an “In my day” set of values.

In my day, banks were for your benefit. In my day, getting “coked-up” meant you got all caffiened up and giggled your way through “Love American Style.” The “Love Boat” was a Saturday night show, not a stint in the Navy. In my day, Strom Thurmond was only 80 years old. In my day, “In My Day” meant something!!

“Your Body is a Temple, Just Like Those Ruins in Greece!!” Hair grows every when you get old, except on your head. I am getting so old that I now have those wicked, bushy eyebrows that, if not trimmed or combed down properly, they make babies cry and children run. I not only have hair growing on my ears, but I also have those mutant hairs that scissors only bend and can’t cut. Some of the hairs I am growing have their own hair.

I got a thank you card this year from the people at Advil. I find myself asking the pharmacist, “Do these bottles come in a larger quantity than 500?” All of a sudden I am so allergic and sensitive to everything. I get Poison Ivy just from watching nature shows on the Discovery Channel. Pollen and spores are kids’ stuff; an old lady wearing old lady perfume can cross the border from Alabama into Georgia and I’ll get hives the size of kumquats.

Getting old is a tough job, but I guess somebody’s gotta do it but, why couldn’t it have just been Dr. Ruth.