I don't think I like getting old(er).
As I mentioned a week or so ago, I've been giving out directions to a lot of visitors to Marquette this season. It helps them get where they're going, and, I hope, also leaves them with a good impression of the city and the people who live here. I must say I'm left with a good impression of the visitors, as well, as they'll always say "thank you" or "thank you very much".
It's only when they add the word "sir" to it that I feel my heart begin to sink.
Now, I realize they're just being respectful. But (as in the case of the person who said yesterday) Dude, I'm not a sir. A "sir" is an old man, someone who deserves your respect or someone who has accomplished lofty things during their existence. I'm the type of person who should be saying "sir" instead of being addressed "sir".
I mean...this can't be happening, can it?
Some people age with grace. And then there's the Koski family.
8-)
I mean I know they're just being polite, and I appreciate that. I know they're not saying "thank you, old man". But to someone who still acts and feels like he's in his 30s (or, on a good day, 11) it just doesn't seem right. It just doesn't seem natural. It just doesn't seem...
Like I'm old enough to be called "sir". But reality, sometimes, sucks.
I wish I could say I'm one of those people who ages with grace, but we both know that's not true. I'm pretty sure I'll be one of those people who, on their 100th birthday, does something to prove that I'm not old, like go skydiving or get on stage with the 125-year old Keith Richards (who, I can almost guarantee, will still be alive when I'm 100). Despite what reality says and despite what the kind people on the street say, I'm not old, especially not old enough to be called "sir"..
Even though, it appears, I really AM.
Sigh...
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