You know you're old when...

Page 13

As winter slowly turns into spring, and the continuous cycle of the seasons completes yet another full year, it occurs to individuals like me that yet another birthday is fast approaching. And you have mixed feelings about it. In your early years, you measure birthdays by different milestones.

For instance, you turn 13; you are officially a teenager (parents be afraid, be very afraid). You turn 16; you can get a driver's licence (other drivers be afraid, very afraid). You turn 19; you are practically legal for everything. And conversely, you are responsible for everything you do. You turn 25; you are no longer eligible for youth-oriented job employment programs, the first flaw in your imaginary armor of agelessness. You crest the false hill known as 30, and well . . . this is a particularly difficult birthday because you now begin to realize that you're getting ever so slightly older. Thirty-three is the age Christ and Crazy Horse died. You wonder, what have you done with your life?

And from here, the years and pounds begin to add up a little too quickly and comfortably. And it's your turn to be afraid, very afraid.

Our culture and teachings have taught us to revere and respect our Elders. That growing old is part of the cycle of life, like the seasons. Sometimes, I have trouble remembering that fact so benignly when it takes at least two days to recover from pushing a car out of a snowdrift. And it was a small car. And it wasn't a particularly deep snowdrift.

Recently I have begun to notice various and uncomfortable signs that "the times they are a-changin' (for those old enough to remember that song), and they're a-changin' none too easily. In my own life, I've observed numerous signs from the Creator gently reminding me that I am not a young man any more. At the age of 36, soon to be 37, I am a little over half way past the expected life expectancy of a Canadian Aboriginal male. Evidently, physically, it's down hill from here. The Elder years are fast approaching. Oh good, maybe someone will carry my luggage from now on and people will actually listen to what I have to say.

I have taken the liberty of recording some of those "gentle reminders" for your interest. Feel free to add your own on, or just cry along with me. The choice is yours.

You know you're old when:

You realize the Zorro t-shirt you put on might not be appropriate for somebody your age. You begin looking for beer and sport t-shirts favored by your uncles. If you're lucky, you might be able to find that prized golf or fishing shirt. Welcome to the club. You now dress like your uncles.

You are at the dentist and the dental hygienist is cleaning your teeth, and she comments casually that she saw one of your plays when she was in high school. "But I don't remember which one it was. That was so long ago." You refrain from responding as your heart cries out, because at the moment she has several sharp implements deep in your mouth. You decide to overlook it this time.

Every time you put on a sweater, your girlfriend can automatically tell which decade you bought it in. Nobody told me velour was out!

Your girlfriend steals all your batteries for unknown reasons and refuses to tell you why. And you don't care.

You find out 50 per cent of the Native population is under 25. You do the math and realize you have underwear older then almost half the Aboriginal community.

And the scariest of all, your mother makes sense.

And this was just today.