Vanishing youth

The other week I made some comment about old people being a tad slow when it came to using the auto bank. I, of course, realise that this was a gross generalisation and I apologise to the vast numbers of elderly citizens who I know are more competent with modern technology.

I don't know what came over me; was it a fear of acknowledging my own rapidly passing youth? You see, I had just received an invitation to my own 20th year school reunion.

Twenty years! Hell, I just remeber having the 10th year reunion. Actually I don't remember a thing about it, but I was told I had a good time. But I guess it got me thinking about the whole getting-on, approaching-40 thing. And I wondered just what had happened, how had I let time slip by so fast without noticing it. So I've taken stock.

There are a couple of ways of noting the passing of time, the slow and gradual ageing process that eventually we all must succumb to. There are the obvious physical signs - stiffness in the joints and maybe a lack of stiffness elsewhere (you know what I mean), fading eyesight and hearing or maybe a lack of the general get up and go that one used to have.

Personally, I've always chosen to mark my years by noticing the relative youth of figures in the public eye. Let me give you some examples, the first time it strikes home is when you are walking down the street and you start noticing polic officers with acne. You think to yourself, "jeez they've changed the uniform at McDonald's and started giving the kids guns". Then you realise, no, you're older than most young cops.

Then, of course, comes the visit to the hospital when you make the terrifying discovery that the young man who looks like he still hasn't been on his first date is about the reset your broken leg and that the stethoscope around his neck is not a toy that mummy gave him for Christmas.

After a while you get used to the fact that you're older than most rock groups, although it still hurts a bit when you start to become older than most rock groups who are in the middle of a reunion tour.

Just as you come to terms with these facts, someone points out that you're now too old to go on a Contiki world tour, and althought the idea of being strapped into a bus filled with lonely desperate souls who couldn't find a travel companion to jooin them on their "Let's see Fifty Castles in Four Days" tour of Europe has never appealed to you, it was at least nice to know that it was your decision not to go.

And speaking of going, I've decided to go to that reunion. It's the one good thing about having been a fat kid a school - even though I'm a fat adult, no one can say "what happened to you?".

-Mikey Robins