That's
Life
When
I was really young I don't remember wishing I was any particular age.
Mostly I was interested in the upcoming holidays, like Christmas,
maybe Easter, Halloween, and of course my birthday.
(I
don't remember when or why my mother started making me coconut cakes
for my birthday, which really was a white cake with white icing
covered with shredded coconut.)
But
when I was probably twelve or thirteen, I knew that after I turned
fourteen, I could take the written test, and if I passed it, I could
get my Florida Learner's Permit to drive. Which I did.
But
it had a couple of restrictions – a licensed driver over 18 (or 21)
had to be in the front seat at all times when I was driving, and no
night driving. Of course, this was to allow me (and others) to learn
to drive. Since my dad was always working, my mother was the one who was
with me as I learned to drive, and to parallel park (a requirement on
the driving test).
Of
course, then my next age-to-be goal was to turn 16 so I could take
the driving test.
(I
remember in high school that we (students) had to take the written test for our
Operator's License in the library in order to take
Driver's Ed, which was supposed to lower our insurance premiums.)
And
less than a month after I turned 16, my dad took me to take the
driving test.
The
most number of points (demerits) you could get and still pass the
test was 20. I got 21, so I failed it. I took the test in our '56
Chevy Bel Air, and the speedometer was stuck at 20 mph, so Dad thought maybe one reason was that the tester thought I was going too
slow. I don't remember how I did on the parallel parking, but I guess
I did okay. A month or so later, Dad took me back and this time I
passed with 18 points.
The
next age I looked forward to being was 18. I would have graduated
from high school, I was kinda / sorta an adult, and (unfortunately) I
was eligible to be drafted (the Viet Nam war was going on at the
time). Instead of waiting to be drafted, I joined the Air Force when
I was 17 (with both parents' signatures).
And
of course, next I looked forward to turning 21, when I could legally
buy and drink alcoholic beverages, and I could vote.
(In
1967, the voting age was 21. But in 1971, the 26th Amendment lowered
the voting age to 18. And because so many returning Viet Nam vets
were under 21, and the drinking age on military bases was 18, there
was the push to lower the age of drinking to 18. So in 1972, it was.
But because so many students in high school were 18, and they were
buying alcohol and bringing it into the schools, and because there
were so many teenage driving fatalities, the drinking age was changed
back to 21 in the mid 1980s. Plus the Viet Nam war was over and there
were no more under-21 soldiers coming back.)
Then
the next age I wanted to be was 25 - my car insurance would go down.
I suppose the insurance companies thought that by the time you turned
25, you were a more responsible driver.
I
doubt if I wanted to be 30, because I remember thinking that, well,
30 was THIRTY!
(As
those of you who are still under 30 will probably agree. And maybe
some of you may remember the hippies' mantra from the '70s - “Don't
trust anyone over thirty.”)
So
I decided that 25 was a good age to be.
When
I hit 35, and looking back, I decided that 30 wasn't so bad. I was
pretty responsible, I had a decent job, and I was making enough money
to live comfortably. So that was the age I would want to be.
And
when turned 40, I didn't remember much, if anything, about being 30,
but I remembered when I was 35 I thought it was good age, so 30 it
was.
And
ditto for 45, 50 and 55. But when I hit 60, I realized that 70 was
just around the corner. And 70 is OLD! So ANY younger age would have
been a good one to be.
However,
when I was 62, and I was hearing about Social Security retirement, I
couldn't wait to turn 66 so I could earn a full week's paycheck AND
collect my full retirement with no penalty. Woo Hoo!
But
70 is not so far away anymore.
My
health, for the most part, is still pretty good. But colds that I
used to be able to kick in a week or so, now seem to last 3 or 4
weeks. And they have started developing into more serious ailments
than just head congestion or coughing. But I can still work all day
without feeling too tired. Of course, there are those aches and pains
I didn't used to have. And there are things I used to do that are
harder now, or especially hard to do (just as I remember hearing
Dad complain about getting older and not being able to do the
things he used to be able to do).
But
looking ahead to 75, 80, 85, and older, I can't help but recall
watching my parents as they aged and their health problems got
worse.
And
that is the blessing, and the curse, of modern medicine. We are all
living longer (as a whole), but as we get older, it means that our
quality of life will not be what we would like it to be. In fact, you
can be certain it won't be much fun at all!
But,
as you know: “That's life.”