When Will I Be Old?

I was recently reading my new Missouri Life magazine, and noticed an ad for a bus tour "A Unique Way to See America's National Parks!"  It caught my interest because I love our national parks, love travel, and one particular trip ended in San Francisco where the grandbaby lives.  In 11 days one would see seven national parks and as an added bonus, the Twenty Mule Borax Museum, which is located in sunny Death Valley.  So aside from being totally fascinated that people felt there was a need for a museum dedicated to Borax,  I was also rather fascinated by my reaction to the idea of the trip.  First, that a road trip of 11 days on a bus with 16 strangers was piquing my interest. Secondly,  that my next reaction was "Ick, they'd all be a bunch of old retired people."

People, I'm 57, and retired from one job.   My dear love is 61 and really, really, wants to be retired.  Many of my best friends are retired--and as old (or older) than I.  Yet, I don't think any of us are old enough to go on a bus trip with Old. Retired. People.

Which lead me to thinking, when will I be old?  Or, when will I admit to being old?  How does one define old in this world where people are living well into their 80's and 90's?  My mother is 80 and lives by herself on the family farm--she has someone to mow her yard and vacuum for her so that she can go eat out with her lady friends.  When I was 35 and my Mom was my age, I thought she was old, as in Bus Trip Old.  As in her best years were behind her old.  And now I'm there....57.

The problem is my body and mind aren't communicating.  This first happened to me several years ago, when I was really young, like, 47.  We were at the piano bar with a group of friends, enjoying the adult beverages and the music.  Problem is, no dance floor.  Problem solved: we procede to the stage and dance with great abandon in front of a club full of college students.  We are super cool.  As I leave the stage, after about the third round of wild abandoness--a young college age woman grabs my arm and tells me "You are so cool!  I want to be just like you when I get old!"  In her mind, she saw me on the tour bus, so did I...the Rolling Stones tour bus.  Who are, by the way, are really, really, old.