I've officially joined the half-century club. I am well on my way, on my 51st trip around the sun and I'm starting to look and feel a bit weathered.
My 82-year young mother takes great delight in the fact that her 'baby' can now join AARP. The envelope containing my membership materials remains unopened, but it does have my name on its exterior.
One day, I'm sure that I'll concede and become one of 'them'. But, in the meantime, I'd like to take my delight in waxing nostalgic, while I can still remember, before my waxing begins waining.