Tell Me I'm Not Old

Tell me I'm not old.

My gray hairs are multiplying like gray hares. I've stopped listening to new-music radio. Who won the Yankees game last night? I was asleep before the last out.

I didn't fully realize this until a week ago. That's when Hopatcong's kids went back to school. That's when I moved just past halfway to my 10-year high school reunion.

Being 23 years old today isn't as easy as you think. (I'll wait while you call me all sorts of names, like silly or $#@*%*.) And it's especially more difficult when you've got a 16-year-old sister.

Briana Kuty just became a high school junior. Wrapping my head around that is like hoola-hooping with Morristown Patch editor John Dunphy—an exercise in futility. But this isn't about her.

It's about me! I mean, I'm the one running out of time. The CIA's World Factbook says the average American will live to be 78.11 years old. Of all countries, Macau, which borders southeastern China, ranks highest with a life expectancy of 84.36 years.

Do the math. I've got about 55 years left. Maybe you think that's plenty of time. Then again, maybe Snooki will join a convent.

Am I overreacting? Probably. But consider this.

Only a few years ago I was a referee at Modick Park, making sure elementary school kids didn't elbow each other into tears. Matt Tobin, Hopatcong High School's star basketball player, couldn't have been much older than 10 or 11 back then.

Anyway, I remember sitting on rotting wood parallel to Modick's craggy basketball court and watching this kid dribble to the top of the key, step right, then quickly cut left and finish for a layup. The kid defending him fell to his knees. (Good thing he was wearing kneepads.)

That kid with the crossover? Matt Tobin, who this winter will challenge his father's all-time scoring record as a senior. He'll be in college next year.

And consider this.

Last week I hung out with a friend I hadn't seen since tossing my graduation cap in the air in the high school gymnasium. Back then we didn't know what the future held for us. And while we still don't, now we're carrying bachelor's degrees and quite a bit of college loan debt.

And consider this.

In about an hour I'm heading to the high school library. But I'm not expecting to crack open a book or jump on laptop and enjoy the quiet. Nope. I'm going to cover a parent-teacher organization meeting. Ask me a couple of years ago what a parent-teacher organization did and I'd have said I'd probably find out when I'm part of one.

But now I'll be listening, taking notes and considering suggestions, although, of course, I won't provide any. I'll be thinking like a parent.

Tell me I'm not old.