ON TURNING 50

The topic in the Dear Abby column yesterday had to do with turning 50 years of age. Some don’t like it; others say to just get on with life.

And that reminded me of an incident some years ago. Amalie and I were on a cruise in the Caribbean. I don’t recall on which side of 50 we may have been, but that number didn’t bother us. One morning we came into the dining room for breakfast, and there was the cruise director looking terribly forlorn. Now this is the guy whose job it is to keep the passengers happy, but this attitude was not going to make it. “What’s the matter?” we asked, thinking that perhaps a close relative had passed away. The problem? This was his 50th birthday, and now he was an old man! We tried to talk him out of it, but I don’t think we had much success.

I’ve often thought that chronological age was the least important of all the ages we have.

Humor -

My buddy Wiggins was short and baby-faced, so he had trouble being taken seriously in the army. He assumed a mustache would fix that. He was wrong.

“Wiggins,” our drill sergeant bellowed after spotting the growth. “What’s so special about your nose that it has to be underlined!”