The past week has been a strange

one. All of a sudden, I have gotten to see a bunch of old friends from

college. Boy, they all have gotten so old.

I am sure they must have been

embarrassed to be around me and realize I am the one who is exactly the

same as when we were in school together. OK, OK, maybe I have changed

a little bit.

It is especially nice to run

across old friends to remind me of the past and my future and certain,

imminent death. Getting old is a tough job, but I guess somebody's gotta

do it. Pretending I am some motivational speaker with my own late-night

cliché-laden infomercial, here is my advice on how to get through

it.

"Growing old doesn't

mean you have to grow mold!" There is an old joke that says,

"You know you are getting old when your self-winding watch stops

working." I am showing my age just by recounting that joke, because

self-winding watches went out with pet rocks and the arrival of Don Knotts

on "Three's Company." Nevertheless, the key to staying young

is staying active and never slowing down.

Here are some pointers: When

picking up your socks around the house, bend at the waist. Stop wishing

in the back of your mind that everywhere you went you had one of those

extension grabber tools. Stop trying to pick up your socks with your toes

and kick them up in the air and catch them like a mad stork.

Add other little workouts to

your lifestyle, too, like, do 20 repetitions each with your remote. Do

Lazy-Boy calisthenics by repeatedly pumping the arm to lie back, raise

up. Lie back, raise up. When showering, don't just "lather, rinse,

repeat." Lather, rinse, repeat and repeat again!

"When you're over the

hill you pick up speed and then can't control the crash!" It

seems people's personalities intensify or "let go" when they

get older. This is why your Aunt Myrtle in the nursing home curses like

a sailor now. Or, why Uncle Dave likes to dress up in Aunt Cathy's clothes.

I know this is becoming more true with me.

Well, not the dressing up in

woman's clothes quite yet, but still I find myself become more passionate

or upset about the more simple things. I suddenly find myself on a rant

and a rampage just because they changed the kind of paper they wrap their

hamburgers in at McDonald's. I have become my retired father and now relate

everything to an "in my day..." set of values.

In my day, banks were for your

benefit. In my day, getting "coked-up" meant you got all caffeined

up and giggled your way through "Love American Style." The "Love

Boat" was a Saturday night show, not a stint in the Navy. In my day,

Strom Thurmond was only 80 years old. In my day, "In my day"

meant something!

"Your body is a temple,

just like those ruins in Greece!" Hair grows everywhere when

you get old, except on your head. I am getting so old that I now have

those wicked, bushy eyebrows that, if not trimmed or combed down properly,

they make babies cry and children run. I not only have hair growing on

my ears, but I also have those mutant hairs that scissors only bend and

can't cut. Some of the hairs I am growing have their own hair.

I got a thank-you card this

year from the people at Advil. I find myself asking the pharmacist, "Do

these bottles come in a larger quantity than 500?" All of a sudden

I am so allergic and sensitive to everything. I get poison ivy just from

watching nature shows on the Discovery Channel. Pollen and spores are

kids' stuff; an old lady wearing old-lady perfume can cross the border

from Alabama into Georgia and I'll get hives the size of kumquats.

Getting old is a tough job,

but I guess somebody's gotta do it, but why couldn't it have just been

Dr. Ruth?

[Visit Billy Murphy on the

Internet at https://www.ebilly.net.]