It’s been clear for a while that time is passing at a dizzying speed. It started when I received my first issue of a retirement magazine on my 55th birthday. It was something of a blow when I was lumped into the same demographics as my father in life insurance commercials and eventually I realized that my dentist and doctors were all younger than I was – never mind the president of the United States and my university alma mater.
There are a million reminders out there every day that it’s difficult to place myself as “young” (or even middle aged) anymore. The most recent blow to my old age denial, however, came yesterday when I received a note from a genealogy group. They were all excited because they are going to be able to trace ancestors with a recently issued U.S. census from 1940 (the year I was born).
Now I’m not only not young, middle-aged or even old. I’ve become ANCESTRAL!
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