It’s finally happened. I’m old.

It’s finally happened. I’m old.

This isn’t news to people who know me. They’ve all seen the spot of rapidly growing scalp on the top of my head. It’s chasing my once loyal hair toward my ears.

Those who know me have also heard me quote Arthur Fonzarelli, know I fondly remember Ronald Reagan, and noticed the cool stories of my life usually involve dates that existed before their coworkers did.

As much as I’ve put off thinking about it, I’m not 17 anymore.

On June 1, I’m 45 years old, which is, by a lot of accounts, not old. However, since my father and grandfather both died when they were 65*, my middle age was my early 30s, which stinks because I spent a lot of time in my early 30s watching TV. Keeping up on the whacky exploits of the Foster family on “Step by Step” is a heck of a way to spend the prime time of your life.

Life. That’s a funny word. To keep up on my life I look at the calendar, soon I’ll just have to check my watch.

But let’s look at the benefits of turning 45: I’m 10 years away from getting cheap coffee at McDonald’s … uh … and … (insert tumbleweed bouncing across the front of this column) … eh … um … (insert cricket chirps) … and ... Yeah, that’s about it.

But my advancing years have yielded a few perks. Here are some of the cool things I can rub in the faces of the young punks who have a clue what I’m talking about:

 Sitting in front of the old Zenith black and white TV, I saw Neil Armstrong step onto the lunar surface.

 

 I saw the first episode of “Scooby Doo, Where Are You?”

 

 Six years later my dad let me stay up to watch the first episode of “Saturday Night Live.”

 

 I watched the Kansas City Royals win the World Series.

 

 I saw “Raiders of the Lost Ark” in the theater - four nights in a row. And it got better every night.

 

 The Cold War ended.

 

 I heard the president of the United States debate the definition of the word “is.”

 

 I went to a Van Halen concert before David Lee Roth went all squirrelly.

 

 I drove my own car to see “Blade Runner.”

 

 I no longer chalk up my mistakes to foolish inexperience; they’re because of complete stupidity. I can deal with that.


Then, of course, there’s the ugly side. My alma mater not only changed its name, going back for a reunion I noticed a lot of concrete edifices were now named for people I knew.

But, looking on the positive side, at least I’m not old enough to remember the JFK assassination. For everyone who does, I’m not as old as you. Yet.

*When my father died in 2001, I told my wife-to-be to buy heavily on life insurance policies because my birth certificate had an expiration date. She didn’t think it was funny.