One day I was standing 19 rows from the stage at a Metallica / Guns N’ Roses concert and the next I’m saying to my wife, “Hey, how do you like the diagonal mowing pattern I used on the lawn?” Getting old happens that fast. And while it might sound like I’m longing for those youthful days, the truth is, I’m fully invested in the old guy stuff. Given the choice between sipping a hard iced tea while admiring a freshly mown lawn or attending a rock concert, I might just go with the lawn gazing.
Depends if going to the concert would involve having to drive in the dark. Mowing is serious business for us older guys. I was at a barbecue a few weeks ago and mowing dominated the conversation.
We talked about the best mower brands and how often to mow. One of the guys is a professional landscaper and he dropped a pro tip — don’t mow in the same direction each time. I don’t know the reason but already this spring I’ve mowed in so many different patterns I need to use Google Earth to plot my next route.
Sometimes, but not often, aging feels like it’s going in reverse. Last year I was by far the “old guy” on our men’s night golf team. We had two guys barely in their 30s and our captain wasn’t even 25 yet.
I could have been any of their fathers. This year the script flipped. I’m the young whippersnapper again.
At 53 I’m bringing the average age of our team down — way down. Our captain is 60 and our next best player is 70. We have a 67-year-old and then we.