Lately, I’ve heard the saying “age is just a number” more than a few times. The implication is that you are only as old as you feel. I know how I feel: a lot older than I did forty years ago, in my physical prime. While age may indeed be merely a number, it is also a fact. And another fact is that anyone who believes age is only a number is kidding themselves. As a youth, I had a full head of hair, a chest and stomach which dropped in a straight line from the neck down, and a sense that life was an adventure. Now the drop down from the neck detours over a soft, gentle expanse of flesh, and adventure has been replaced with a nagging sense not all the bills have been paid.

Fortunately, we live in an era of medical miracles, Viagra perhaps foremost among them (not that I need it, thank you very much).  Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my stretching exercises, to keep the joints limber. That’s another thing different about me as compared to forty years ago: what I mean when I use the word “joint”.



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