You Know You've Reached Middle Age When . . .

you receive a card inviting you and a guest to the celebrate the 50th birthday of one of your contemporaries. In my mind, this guy will always be a teenager. When I think of him, I picture him and that hair. I picture that boy I had a crush on when I was a teenager. I picture the guy I put on the blog not long ago. What I don't picture IS THE FACT THAT TONY ALVA TURNS 50 LATER THIS MONTH! Now, don't get me wrong. I know I'm a middle age woman. It's likely that I'll live to 88 or, given my genetics, a little longer. I don't think of myself as a young person. Nor do I think of myself as an old person. I'm fine with where I am in my life in terms of age. But for some reason, I'm not fine with the people from my youth getting older. I know it makes no sense. I can't help it. Tony Alva cannot be 50! I'm not too bummed out though. Alva still skates a bit. That impresses me to no end. To be truthful, the fact that I'm 44 and still going strong—literally and figuratively—impresses me too. I'll keep at it for as long as I can. I'm sure Alva will too.