The March of Time

I have never been one to focus on age. I believe it a waste of the limited time we all have. Of course, as a young boy, I engaged in the universal desire to be older. When asked, I was 6 ½ years old or almost 13. It seemed that achieving a greater age brought some instant benefits. For some reason, I thought 19 would be a perfect age.

I was wrong.

There is no perfect age. There is your age, and you best learn how to enjoy it.

What stimulated these thoughts about age was on-line forms and surveys. Whether it be purchases, surveys, or updating important information, at some point we face the age selection box.

Since I am now fast approaching 60, it seems I have to scroll almost to the end when picking by age and to the beginning when picking the year of my birth.

Soon, all too soon, I will be at either end of the selection process.

You would think, with all the creativity and knowledge in this country, someone would find a way to gather the necessary information without reminding me of the inexorable march of time.

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