Please! Someone Decide How Old Is Old And Stick With It.

While I suspect most will not recognize the name, Kerry Collins, a better than average NFL quarterback, announced his retirement today after what one writer characterized as a “long and storied” career.  Another referred to Mr. Collins as “nearly ancient”.  Kerry Collins is retiring after 16 years of professional football at the age of 38.  Apparently, “old” in professional football is 38.
MSN recently published an article on its web site about the retirement of Command Sergeant Major Jeff Mellinger, the last Viet Nam era veteran who was drafted in 1972 at the age of 19.  On the other hand, two of my high school friends joined the service at 17 and retired after 20 years.    So, “old” in the United States Army is a moving target somewhere between 37 and 58.   
Because my very next birthday starts with a five and ends with a zero, the single least exclusive fraternity on earth, the AARP, recently invited me to join their membership.  In an effort to seal the deal, they enclosed a “complimentary” copy of their recent publication.  Apparently, now that I am nearly 50, laxatives, health insurance and vacation planning are of vital importance.  Despite their kindness, I did not feel “complimented”. “Old” as determined by the American Association of Retired Persons is 50.
With apologies to Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Brutus, Marcus Antonius and every person who attempted to teach me grammar, in perhaps “the most unkindest cut of all” Kroger offers a senior citizen discount to those 55 and older every Thursday.  Apparently our food retailer thinks we are old at 55.   
I am of sufficiently advanced years (my next birthday starts with a “5”) that roughly once a year I receive an update from the folks at the Social Security administration explaining my anticipated benefits should I live to retirement age (in light of my most recent physical examination, I can assure you this is purely an academic exercise on their part).  Wife 2.0, who is nearly five years my senior, receives similar notices.  Because I was feeling particularly decrepit, I recently examined the two notices and discovered a remarkable discrepancy.  According to the folks at Social Security, Wife 2.0 may retire at 67 while I must wait until 72.  Upon further investigation, I learned that Social Security retirement age, which for seven decades had been either 62 (“early retirement”) or 65 (“regular retirement”) is no longer a fixed number.  Rather, the younger one is, the older one must be to retire.   Applying the ratio differential from wife 2.0 to me, then on to son 1.0, I have discerned that he will retire at 143.      So, according to the Social Security Administration, Wife 2.0 is “old” at 67, I am “old” at 72 and son 1.0 will NEVER be old.
Of course, for me, retirement in any form is purely an academic exercise, a cruel hoax perpetrated by the AARP, the SSA or one of the other alphabet agencies whose advertisements feature retirees windsurfing or opening vineyards.  I am 50 (not really; but dangerously close ).  I have an 18 year old child (Son 1.0) who if history is to be believed, will manage to cram four years of college education into six years of lackluster attendance which will be closely followed by two years of graduate school in his personal quest to emulate Peter Pan (you know, the boy who never grew up).  Consequently, in eight years I can devote my resources to retirement rather than Son 1.0’s higher education.  Given that the experts tell us it takes 30 years to reasonably fund  retirement, I will finally be “old” enough to retire at 88. 

 So, I’m not sure how old is old, just that according to my sources, it is somewhere between 37 and 88.  I am, however, sure I will never, ever, be old.

See you next time.