Well, my birthday is here once again. I can’t say that turning 68 horrifies me. Actually, in my mind, I have been 68 for a whole year. Every birthday I start thinking about how old I am going to be on my next birthday and somehow forget my present age. I have done this all my life. This year I want to keep in mind that I am 68 and won’t even let the next number enter my mind.

Aging is a funny thing. Although the image I see in the mirror is puzzling at times and makes me wonder how in the world I got here, I still feel better about myself than I did when I was twenty. I certainly still have lots of hang ups and don’t really appreciate the wrinkles, sagging skin, the freckles morphing into age spots and the thinning hair that seems to be migrating to my chin. However, I am getting closer to accepting the looks that God gave me. But I must say that if I had known I would live this long I would have taken better care of myself.

From now on I am adopting this verse from a song from the musical Gigi:

The Fountain of Youth is dull as paint
Methuselah is my patron saint
I‘ve never been so comfortable before
Oh, I’m so glad that I’m not young anymore