Day 124: Still pushing

My department at the university held a lunch-hour meeting the other day. I raised a question about staffing needs and happened to mention that I was "pushing 60." Someone seated across the table whispered, as if in disbelief, "Sixty?"

Cool.

Day 116: Say what?

I just finished grading a pile of papers -- stories written by my intro-level journalism class. In one of them, a novice writer refers to a 54-year-old man as "elderly." I tried to be gentle as I suggested that she reconsider labeling someone younger than her instructor as a geezer.

A former publisher at the newspaper I once called home stormed out of his office one day after a reporter referred to someone who was the same age as the publisher -- 60 -- as elderly. "I am not elderly!" the publisher roared. When publishers roar, people tend to pay attention.

All of this has me thinking about how old 59 sounded to me when I was 19, or even 29. But the closer I got to this age, the younger it seemed.

There's a great line in the movie "Fried Green Tomatoes." Kathy Bates' character, speaking to her new friend -- played by the late, great Jessica Tandy -- says, "I'm too old to be young and too young to be old."

Precisely.

I'm not ready to be elderly. But honestly, I wouldn't want to be 20 again, either. (OK, I wouldn't mind FEELING 20 again ...)

Day 111: Highlights and lowlights

There's a photo of a woman in a magazine I picked up recently. She appears to be about my height, thinner but not thin, and her hair is long and silvery gray. "This is what 60 looks like," the headline says.

Well, maybe.

Thinner would be nice, sure. But 111 days into my 60th year I still have hair that is best described as brown -- not blonde, not brunette, just brown. Yes, the gray hairs are popping up with increasing frequency, but for reasons I can't figure out (both of my parents were quite gray by the time they reached 60) they are still in the minority.

Still, the last few times I've gone to a beauty parlor the hairdresser couldn't resist suggesting ways to cover my gray hairs. One went into an elaborate explanation of the highlights she'd introduce and something else I didn't quite grasp about making my natural color look even more natural.

Huh?

I asked her how often this whole arrangement would need to be updated so I wouldn't have "root" issues.

"Every six weeks," she said.

I respectfully declined.

I shoulda told her, "Hey, this is what almost 60 is SUPPOSED to look like."

Day 105: Try it, you'll like it

Not one to take someone else's word for it -- at least, not when it comes to ice cream -- I decided to try Breyer's fat-free creamy vanilla topped with Hershey's chocolate syrup and fat-free Reddi Whip.

Gotta hand it to you, Arlene, this is good stuff. Who knew that fat-free ice cream had evolved into something that tasted like the real deal? Where have they been hiding this stuff? (Probably next to the uber-fat chocolate truffle ...)

With Lent a little more than a week away, though, I am not going to let this fat-free combo become a habit. I am contemplating giving up ice cream and chocolate in all forms, along with bottled frappucinos. I figure this would be good not only for my cholesterol, but also for my soul. Maybe. A little self-denial never hurt anyone, right?

Besides, I just heard that someone close to my age had to have surgery on one of his carotid arteries because it was 90 percent blocked. The other was completely blocked. He was headed for a stroke and didn't even know it. Sheesh.

Maybe I'll give up meat and cheese, while I'm at it.