I have ranted on how age is quickly creeping up on my generation.  While in college, it was odd to see “up and coming superstars” who were my age splash onto the scene for any sport.  They were in the process of making millions while I was still making pyramids with beer cans and balancing my checkbook down to the last 7 cents.  It was at this time when I had a fraternity brother write a check for me for 16 cents to Columbia House (one of the few times I actually paid that company) since I didn’t have that much in my account.

Now it’s disconcerting to see guys my age or slightly older in professional sports that are now either retired or are referred to as “seasoned veterans”.  This is the age range where they start commending players on how well they use their smarts since their physical skills and speed have diminished.

Heck, someone my age is now the mayor of Pittsburgh.  Thankfully his age for that job is considered “unusually young” rather than “an elder statesman”.  I still feel young and for those who comment on my “bald spot” and “high forehead”, someone who reads this blog who was in high school with me can confirm I had the same amount of hair back then.  With my hair changing colors from a towhead as a kid to now a dark blonde, when the white hairs start a-comin’, they’ll stand out but not as bad as if I had black hair.  What I don’t know, if my hair begins to look like a friar's decades from now, is whether to let it grow or shave the whole thing.  The problem is that I think that a bald head plus my large nose will make me resemble the bow of an Arctic ice-breaking ship were you to view my profile from the side.

As of next July though, I will have vacated that lucrative 18-34 demographic that advertisers love so much.  Maybe I’ll be bombarded with less ads?  Fat chance of that ever happening.