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I have a friend who always says, "Age ain't nothin' but a number." And then there are the TV ads that claim if you take their elixir, "Age doesn't matter." I wish these people would talk to my doctor. For every ache, affliction, or malady I fuss to him about, he strokes his chin, thinks deeply and says, "It's age-related." He's very nice about it, but my age clearly matters to him — and he has lots of soft, indirect ways to say it: "As the body ages (he picks from a long list of medical complaints) occur;" "As we get older (what's this 'we' stuff? I'm at least 25 years older than he is) these things happen. I think if I came in after being hit by a truck or with a knife sticking out of my back, my doctor would stroke his chin and observe, "It's age-related." Sometimes he says, "Most of the people your age who come in here have (whatever is bothering me)." That last is not terribly reassuring. Questioned about his competence at an advanced age, Casey Stengle famously said, "What you gotta remember is that most of the people my age are dead." That cheerful note aside, if age doesn't matter, why did I have to wait to be 65 before getting full retirement and Social Security? Thirty-five would have been just fine with me. Why do you have to be 50 to join AARP, or 55 to get 30 percent off on Wednesday at Applebee's and the senior discount at Ace Hardware? And earlier in life, it seemed age mattered more than anything else. I couldn't drive until I was 16. Then, I couldn't vote, sign a contract, or buy a beer because I wasn't 21 — but I could be drafted because I was 18. In my generation that qualified as a life-changing — even, alas, a life-ending — event. Back then age really mattered Today those same TV ads that claim age doesn't matter, also claim their nostrums can, "Make you look years younger," or, "Can take off years." (If age doesn't matter, why should I take off years?) One of the advantages of growing older used to be discounts at ski resorts. When I was in my late 50s, skiers over 60 often went free. When I got to 60, the age went up to 65. At 65 — you guessed it — the age went up to 70. Now that I quit skiing (it's age-related) I hear it's up to 80. Well, I guess it's good that the age that matters is getting higher. The DMV thinks age matters. No longer is my license automatically renewed and mailed to me. I am required to come in, have my eyes tested, and take a written test. Evidently they want to determine if I can find the DMV office, see well enough to avoid hitting large objects, and remember whether the speed limit is set in miles-per-hour or feet-per-second (it's miles-per-hour. I got that question right.) To my surprise, the license was renewed for five years. The DMV is more optimistic than I am. At the rate age is not mattering around here, I think I should be checked more often. And at the top of my medical chart in my doctor's office, under the heading "Description," the first thing it says about me is, "(Bleep)ty-four year old male." (The decade has been removed to protect the guilty.) I understand the medical importance of "male." It greatly reduces the time he spends testing for ectopic pregnancy, but much to my discomfort, it makes an enlarged prostate a real possibility. However, I would much prefer that "(Bleep)ty-four" be replaced with a different adjective. "Thoughtful," "kind," "intelligent" and "charitable" accurately describe me, but they have little medical importance. Maybe "compliant to direction," "only mildly overweight," "not terribly wrinkled," or "pain intolerant" might be more to the point. This needs more research. aLL grown up — The wages of The goLden years 6 FOUR SEASONS BREEZE | SEPTEMBER 2014 | COMMUNITy NEWS If Age Is Just A Number, Why Keep Count? By Crochet E. Oldman foUr SEaSonS SPotLiGHt

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