Older

Getting a Little Older

Originally published Aug. 17, 2003

Growing up with four older brothers, I had to develop a thick skin. That took some time. My temper got me into my share of fights in my younger days. My pride made me worry about insulting nicknames. But eventually, I learned that I couldn’t control how everyone viewed me.

I thought I was doing well. I thought I had grown up some. Until my birthday last week.

A friend pulled a fast one on me and told my co-workers I was turning 40. I know the grey is creeping into my hair more and more every day, but had it gotten that much worse?

People expressed their surprise in my card. Some came up and told me I looked a lot younger than my age. I told them that I should since I was only turning 35. In reality, the whole thing didn’t bother me that much. But it reminded me why I had worked so hard to not take myself as seriously as I did a long time ago.

I have a terrible problem with wanting people to like me. Some might say that’s why I complete this exercise of self-indulgence every week. If I talk about myself, maybe people will do the same. But I couldn’t take that plunge unless I knew that all the reaction wouldn’t be flattering.

Several years ago when I was coaching wrestling, I made a comment about the performance of a wrestler on a rival team at the state tournament. The kid’s father overheard me say that his son “got killed” in his last match. I probably should have looked around to see who was nearby, but I wasn’t lying. The kid lost by nine or 10 points.

The truth wasn’t good enough for his father, however. The guy – who didn’t have much class to begin with – got in my face, then proceeded to follow me around the gym when I tried to diffuse the situation by walking away. Finally, I looked at him and said, “Listen, I didn’t say anything bad about your son. I was just expressing my opinion about his match.”

The guy then expressed his opinion about me. It wasn’t flattering. In junior high, I probably would have hauled off and hit him regardless of my chance of winning the fight. In college, I might have gone nose-to-nose with him in a battle of insults. But all those years of toughening up by my brothers and sarcastic jokes from my father paid off. So I laughed.

“Do you really think you’re the first person to call me that?” I asked him. “Do you think you’re the first person today?”

He couldn’t deal with humor in that situation. He stared at me, clueless how to react. Then he stormed away.

I don’t like that fact that someone thought of me that way. I don’t go out of my way to attract enemies. But it happens. I try to avoid it with a laugh. I try to play it off with a joke. I try to not take the criticism too seriously by not taking myself too seriously.

Which is why I can handle aging five years in a day in some people’s mind. Especially since one of the people who bought the joke works in human resources. Maybe I’ll qualify for retirement benefits a little earlier now.

Then I’d have the last laugh.

Back to main page