Recent events conspire against me to betray me to … the truth.  That’s the only way to describe it. 

I have always — always — been “old.” Back in my 20s, my hippie friends used to say of me that I had “an old soul,” a comment I found oddly perplexing back then and still do today. I’ve always appeared older than my biological age, however. I’ve had a full beard since I was 16, for example, and I used to stump those “guess your age” guys every year at the county fair. 

That’s one thing, but comments lately have reiterated the point. Just yesterday, I was lunching with a friend and the waitress asked me if I were a senior citizen. He thought it was funny; I thought it was … well, nothing at all. In fact, I’ll be a “senior citizen” as that restaurant defines it for its discount in a matter of mere weeks. 

Even when the question or comment lately hasn’t been directly related to age, I’ve thought about it. Not long ago, a visitor to my office — slightly younger than I — commented on a globe on top of a bookshelf. That globe has adorned every office I’ve ever occupied. It’s one of those “fake” antique globes, or, as a quick search of eBay revealed, a “vintage Olde World” globe. I have no idea where I got it — I think it was a gift — but I’ve had it since my teens. It holds great sentimental value for me. 

In the days that followed, I was particularly aware of objects around me that I’ve had for just about as long as I remember. Leaving out my books, some of which date back to my childhood, there are many things I’ve had for decades now. 

There are even a few things from decades past that I still use quite often, if not every day. I still wear — occasionally — two short-sleeved knit shirts that I bought when I graduated from college … over 30 years ago! One is emerald green and has shown its age via worn color and frayed cuffs and collar for quite a long time now, and the other is sky blue and still looks OK. Both are presentable enough to wear with jeans or overalls, so they are “off-day” shirts — not nice enough for work, but good enough for errands around town. 

The one item I own and use just about every day I bought when I was 17 — a pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses, black with the G-15 green lenses. I positively treasure those sunglasses. Back in 1985 when I bought them, Wayfarers were at the bleeding edge of “retro-cool,” worn by so many actors in movies and on TV. That’s not to mention all the musicians sporting them — Don Henley even mentions Wayfarers in his 1984 hit, “The Boys of Summer.” So, when I bought those sunglasses nearly 40 years ago, they were at the height of their cool-ness. 

I still wear them because they’re the best sunglasses I’ve ever had, period, bar none. There is something about that G-15 green lens that is just … perfect. They’re the only sunglasses I’ve tried that clarify a sun-soaked South like they do.  So, I bought them for cool, and I keep them because they’re superior.  But I also keep them for the memories. 

My brother and I cracked up at something Dad said a few years before he died. Dad, the professional trucker with miles and miles driven over his career, was patiently listening to Greg and me brag about how many miles we’d driven. He said, “I’ve traced more miles with my thumb on a coffee cup feeling for the handle than you boys have ever driven.” I still laugh at Dad’s comeback. 

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And, I’ve seen more adventures through the lenses of my Wayfarers than you youngsters have ever had. That’s what I thought when a young woman I know remarked on my “old-style shades” last week. And I meant the thought in only the kindest way, because … I don’t feel old at all. Quite the contrary. I’m feeling all young again these days. 

They say you’re only as old as you feel. If that’s true, I’m aging backward. When I was younger, I felt much older. Now that I’m actually older, I feel younger. It’s not just some vague feeling, either. Writing down the date at the head of my journal entry every day, quite often I have to stop and think about it before I record the year. More than a few times recently, I’ve nearly written another year, say “2012” instead of “2022.” At first, that was concerning, but then I realized I only do it with my journal, and nowhere else. 

And there are some days when I feel 10 years younger … in the mornings. The reality of my evenings is different, though. Oftentimes, I swagger off into the day full of energy and stagger home in the evenings, quite tired. There are things that I know that I cannot do as easily as I once did, but there are also things that I can do now which would have staggered 45-year-old me.  

And I find myself ready for more adventures. That’s when I slip on the Wayfarers. 

David Murdock is an English instructor at Gadsden State Community College. He can be contacted at murdockcolumn@yahoo.com. The opinions reflected are his own.