Wealth and power doesn’t stop us from getting old.

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, ‘A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid! – Robert Browning

Every once in a while I will happen to glance at myself in the mirror as I’m washing my face at night and a woman with graying hair and wrinkles around the mouth, eyes, and neck will look back at me. Egad! When did that happen?

I have written before about how surprising it is to find ourselves growing old. Except for the fact that I struggle to open jars because of my arthritis and I can’t read a thing without my reading glasses and I sometimes have trouble remembering where I put the car keys (but thankfully still know what car keys are for), I hardly notice myself getting older.

I clearly remember when this phenomenon became perfectly clear to me. I was in Nebraska at one of my high school class reunions, maybe the 30^th. I was shopping with my very best friend (and very best friends can be brutally honest). “Look at that woman,” she said to me, pointing at the sales clerk. “How old do you think she is?”

“I don’t know, maybe 60?” I replied.

“She is our age,” was my BFF’s startling response.

“Nuh uh,” I firmly said. “She’s old.”

“I know,” said my friend. “So are we.”

When grace is joined with wrinkles, it is adorable. There is an unspeakable dawn in happy old age. – Victor Hugo

I recently read an article in the AARP magazine that comes to our house whether we want it to or not.

And I’m going to go off on a tangent here, so bear with me. My husband is 11 years older than I. I turned 39 in 1992, the year we got married. Bill turned 50 and became a member of AARP. I clearly remember when he handed me my AARP card. “What in blazes is this?” I remember saying. “I am not old enough to be a member of AARP.”

“On the contrary,” he replied, “by virtue of the fact that you are my wife and I am a member of AARP, you are automatically a member too.”

That was wrong on so many levels.

OK, I’m back from my tangent, but still bitter as you can see, despite being quite eligible for AARP membership without being anyone’s wife at this point.

But back to the AARP Magazine. The article, cleverly titled You’re Old, I’m Not, was about the fact that we don’t think of ourselves as growing old. In fact, according to the article, the older we get, the age at which we would describe someone as “old” goes up. That’s not too surprising. For example, people in their 40s said 63; people in their 50s said 68; people in their 60s said 73; and people in their 70s said 75. People any older than that were too busy playing with their abacuses to be bothered.

Old age isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative. – Practically everyone over the age of 60

I really don’t mind aging as long as I remain healthy enough to keep up with my grandkids. And grandkids help keep you healthy – and, of course, humble. They are not a bit reluctant to tell you that you are old. That’s okay. One day they too will be 60.

If I ever forget that I am aging, I am quickly reminded when I go to a restaurant and the server calls me Honey. Or Sweetie. Or, as a recent restaurant, Doll. Doll? That particular offensive salutation came from a male server at one of the restaurants at Sky Harbor Airport here in Phoenix. He called me Doll more than once. After dismissing my initial notion to smack him, I seriously considered adding only a dollar tip to my credit card receipt and letting him know it would have been significantly more had he just not called me DOLL! Doll?

I’m happy (and lucky) to have a really good life, a fun and loving husband, great family and friends, and the ability to live in Arizona in the winter and Colorado in the summer. What’s more, I wouldn’t want to go back and live my 20- or 30- or even 40-something period over again. In fact, I’m just where I want to be.

And the above photo really has little to do with this blog post. I simply loved the photo. Talk about growing old together! And I’ll bet he didn’t hand Her Highness a premature AARP card.