I wasn’t going to post anymore but feel compelled. I’ve heard that saying and it rubs me the wrong way. It makes light of growing old and what’s wrong with the alternative which must mean death? I don’t have a death wish and haven’t been dead. But I highly doubt my hips would be in pain nor would I worry about what will become of me as I get older. In death the playing field is more level.

Young people are in a different world from the one I was in at their age. They have different stressors.

There’s no year I’d want to go back to, though 16 wasn’t so bad. I don’t wish I was 52 again either, as a post below mentioned. When I’m 72 I don’t believe I wish I was 62 again either.

I’ve said my piece now, unless something is mentioned that’s compelling me again.

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