By Gary Martin
When the barber shows me the back of my head; when I can’t remember the names of any of the actors who played Batman; and when I say “ow” just for stepping out of bed — I am reminded that I am not as young as I think I am. Though, I am also reminded, from time to time, how “childlike” (or should I say “childish”?) I can be.
Gary B. Martin is an illustrator and animator who has lived on the Upper West Side for more than three decades. His Sunday illustrations for West Side Rag chronicle life in the neighborhood, New York City, and the Universe. See his other Rag cartoons — HERE.
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So true!😂 It’s very disconcerting!
Thanks for the refreshing laugh this sticky morning–and three cheers for the inimitable Gary Martin and Martoonerville!👏
I’ll take your word for it. But haven’t you always been a crotchety old man?
I was born a crotchety old man…. 👴
I’ve realized pains in my back, legs, and tooth.
But no pain is greater than losing my youth.
Once again, so true! Love Gary Martin!
Oh, this hits home!
OMG! I’m not the only one who is 38 trapped inside a 58 year old body?!? Mr. Martons ~ please keep it coming! 🤩😎😂
I think this thought daily—as the shop clerk just gives me the senior discount without my proffering any evidence of my age. Ah well. 🙂
Right on, man
Love Gary’s work! Keep it coming!
You captured that feeling beautifully. Made me laugh!
In my world (which may or may not be imaginary) the bar for “old” keeps moving. For example, when I learn of a death in the community, I sometimes ask, “Really? How old was he?” Response “He was 86!” My response to response, “Oyyy! So young!” (To be clear, in no way am I making a joke, silly as it sounds.)
May we all live to be 120!
In my ongoing attempt to embrace my aging self I composed this haiku:
Greetings, old oak friend
Your bark, like my textured skin
Whispers, “We’ve lived. Yes!”
Carol, age 81
If it’s any consolation, we’re the youngest of the old people!
So confusing! And yet, it helps a lot that many of the neighbors who were here when I moved to this neighborhood in 1976 are still here and still moving around. And the senior discount gives me lifts daily!
OMG, so true! Love these weekly thoughts.
I first realized I was old when people stopped acting surprised upon learning my age.
Many years ago (why do so many of my stories start like that) back in 1971, when I was 23 years old….yes 23, I was having some brake work done on our car. I drove to the garage and picked up the young man who would be working on it. We drove to my place of work, he moved over to the driver’s side and asked: “What time would you like me to pick you up, Ma’am?” MA’AM???
I changed mechanics after that.
Ha!!! Of all the “weird” being bandied about the political stage this week, this right here remains the weirdest of all. Another astute capture by Martoonerville!
I will be 50 in three weeks and for the past three years have been embracing the ageing gracefully mentality. I have been a runner since my teens and I find it has helped me stay a little more fit than my contemporaries. My goal is to lose some weight and for the most part run about 4-5 miles on the treadmill, 4 or 5 times a week. I find that it makes me more alert and able to handle problems easier. Some weight training is also in the plans, but I am not sure how to begin that part. I am researching some approaches for people my age.
Seems to be the topic du jour these days. Time to start looking for that second star to the right!
I was just discussing this with an old friend yesterday. We mused that when we refer to someone as an “old man” or “old woman” we might very well be talking about a person younger than us.
Aaaah…I definitely see me in this one!!!!
Finally! Someone understands! I feel seen…
So true!
“For we failed to see our own appearance, our own age, but each one of us, as though it were a mirror that faced him, saw those of the others.”