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This morning I was listening to an old friend on the radio—Frank Deford, who read this piece:


I have always enjoyed Deford, regardless of the fact that I have close to zero interest in sports. What I enjoy about him is the sound of his voice. He emphasizes just the right word to tell you when he’s being sarcastic. His delivery is impeccable. I’d likely listen to him if he were reading hog futures. But listening to him this morning, I could hear the years in his voice, and I wondered if people could hear the age in mine


Deford is a little more than 20 years older than me, so maybe not. But I’m one of those people for whom youth is important, and the ability to hold onto it used to be easier. A few years ago, I started seeing silver in the remains from my occasional haircuts, and there’s more of it each time I visit my barber. It’s hard to reconcile that with the late hippie I feel like. Two of the old-line families from my church are moving in the next month or so; Spouse and I will be among the old-timers.

I recently started thinking about the fact that I don’t have a will, and outlining one in my head.

I suppose age is not that bad a thing… thirty-five years ago, I lost two of my best friends from high school in separate motor accidents. But this morning, I’m feeling old, and it’s strange. Watching the heroes of one’s youth get old is weird. Neil Young. Garrison Keillor. Patti Smith. The Roches. Child4 (17) found a tape I had left lying around and asked me if I even still had a cassette player, and I realized that I had seen both cassettes and CDs come and go.

On the other hand…I’ve still got my bike!

What makes you feel old (if anything)? And what keeps you feeling young?

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