Sorry for the delay in posts. I've been traveling, and then I really had to get some work done to get paid so this endless summer can continue. I hope to be back on top of things now, including still getting out a Fat Tuesday post today. And a big shout out to my first follower Irish Briese! Woot-Woot.
I’m 27, for those seeking general information. I haven’t lived a hard 27 years. I don’t smoke, I’m not a heavy drinker, I haven’t worked the coalmines or the cornfields. Yet somehow, I still look old. How old? I’m not sure. I think it depends on multiple factors including day, dress, beard length, hair length, and possibly other random factors of which I am not aware. Granted, I am balding on top and a little pudgy in the middle, and I am sure the beard adds a few years. I have a wife and a child. And I haven’t stayed up until midnight since I don’t know when. But still, how old does the world think I am.
I had not been reminded of this fact for a while until two recent events. The first was my wife’s 10-year class reunion in Montana. Not to give away age, but my wife is a year older than me. Being Montana, and having the reunion held in a bar, I didn’t think dressy was necessary for the occasion. I dressed simply, blue jeans, average striped button down, and casual shoes. [I have a distinct dislike of adult looking dress shoes]. So I don’t believe anyone at the reunion could have mistaken me for a real adult, but this was Montana.
Midway through dinner I was doing my best to overcome my anti-social tendencies and chat with the fellow across from me, despite the fact that slow service had limited my beer intake to one, and currently no optimist could find my glass half full. We exchanged the usual stats of where are you from, what do you do. [This has become an awkward conversation in and of itself, but that’s for another time]. Our wives sitting next to us discussed how many people had actually shown up for the reunion, which spurred the fellow’s comments on his reunion.
After noting the hilarity of his reunion, the fellow squarely turns to me and asks without hesitation, “So, did you go to your 10-year reunion?” Now granted, just because he asked if I had my ten-year reunion didn’t mean he thought I was incredibly old. And yes, I could easily pass for a few years above my actual age. But there wasn’t even a hesitation. Not even a, “So, have you had your 10-year reunion yet?” Just a straight jump to the assumption that I was older than I was by at least two years.
Now this event alone would not have concerned me as to my age appearance. Really just a quip that was more than reasonable. It was the second event that caused more alarm for my wife and me.
About a month ago my wife and I were undergoing health assessments at our house for life insurance purposes. Yes I have life insurance, which does make me somewhat old, and no, none of you out there is listed as a beneficiary. The nurse was going through the usual lengthy questionnaire of medical history, general habits, and so on. She then came to the question, “Have you been to a chiropractor in the last 10-years.”
I thought for a moment and recalled I had visited the chiropractor my senior year of high-school during basketball season. [Yes, I did visit the chiropractor in high-school, so I guess that does add “old points”, but that is beside the point]. I answered the nurse, “Yes, I visited the chiropractor once in high school during basketball season.” The nurse looked at me oddly for a moment before having an apparent epiphany about what I was saying. “No,” she responded, “Have you been to the chiropractor in the last 10-years?”
Now was my opportunity to turn out a bewildered look. I thought I had just answered her question. “Yes,” I answered hesitantly, “10-years ago I was in high-school.” We all took a minute to consider all the statements on the table before the nurse burst out, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Now, when nurses ask about medical history it is usually framed in terms of 5-10 years. Have you seen a doctor in the last 5 years? Have you had a kidney stone in the last 10 years? Have you ruptured your spleen in the last 20 years? So this perceived error in my calculation couldn’t have missed by 2 or 3 years. Besides, there was such an emphatic stress on the “10”. Did she think I had heard 15, 20, 25? And why the profuse apologies? Apologies are not suited for understandable errors.
American Idol doesn’t take 30 year olds. I’m 27. Okay, you’re in. See, no apology necessary. Would you like to join AARP? I’m 27. Oh, sorry. [That story is for another time]. Apology necessary in that situation. The nurse’s apologies led me to believe she had probably assessed me as at least closing in on the 40 range. A good 10 years of my life just vanished.
Despite these events, I can always fall back on the old adage “you’re only as old as you feel.” And my wife just bought a Wii fit, so I can now get a computer’s opinion of what my age is. 28 is knocking at the door. My 10 year class reunion is less than a year away. The world appears to be doing its best to age me prematurely, but I’d like to think I still have some life left in me. I just asked my wife the other day how she felt about me joining the community rugby team. I’m still awaiting her response.
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