There are, in life, these big moments when the curtain is pulled back and you understand, with unsettling clarity, that you are getting old. On Thursday, for instance, I got bifocals. Well, I didn't get them yet. My optometrist ordered them. He said, "It's time," and ordered them … you know, without throwing me a bachelor party or anything. The bifocals will arrive in two weeks. This means I basically have two weeks of youth left. Maybe I'll buy a convertible or play Sega hockey or go climb a tree or something, because when those bifocals come, let's be honest, the dream of staying young forever ends pretty dramatically.
Of course, I'll actually spend my last two weeks of relative youth squinting at menus and holding the phone so close to my face while reading that people will assume I'm taking pictures of the wall.
Well, bifocals, you know, that's a BIG getting-old moment. Turning an age with a 0 at the end of it -- 30, 40, 50, 60 -- those are big getting-old moments. Finding yourself talking to people who seem to be in your age bracket but don't remember the space shuttle Challenger exploding or weren't born when the Kansas City Royals were good or the show "Benson" was on TV, yes, those can be a big getting-old moments too.
But you find -- and this is surprising, I think -- that mostly getting old creeps up on you subtly. You don't notice it much. You just wander along, and then one day you show up at a friend's house, and some teenage boy or girl walks over to say hello and you go, "Hello, who are you?" and they tell you that they're the kid you held when visiting that same friend in the hospital.
The Colorado Rockies hired Walt Weiss to be their manager this week. And, for some reason, something in my mind kind of clicked when that happened.