How Old Are You Now?

If you didn’t know how old you were, how old would you be?

There are painful moments of absolute clarity in my life when I fully recognize just how old I actually have become.  No, I am not talking about my various birthdays, although those moments can count, too, particularly the day after.  Every physical and eye exam after the age of 40 counts, too.  I have more subtle reminders, equally as searing in my failing memory.  There was the first time I said to someone, “Hey, I’m not that old”, when of course, we all know that only people who ARE that old ever make that statement.  There was the time that I shared with some kid that I remember when Let It Be was the Beatles’ newest record, and he looked up at me with vacant eyes and barely vocalized one word in a hush, “Wow”.  I had another one of these moments recently.

I came home from the library (NOTE: going to the library does not make me feel old, although perhaps it should) with the authorized biography of one of my childhood heroes, Willie Mays.  The Say Hey Kid.  Greatest Living Ballplayer.  The prototypical 5 tool star (throw, run, catch, hit for power, hit for average).  Hundreds of pages and several pounds of baseball stories, recollections, and personalities.  I can’t wait to read it.  I walked past my 14 year old daughter, and teasingly told her, “You can read this when I’m finished.”  She looked at the cover, and coolly replied, “I don’t know him.  I know Billy Mays.  Is he related?”

• If you do not know who Billy Mays is, feel free to detour and click here before continuing.  If you already know the work of Billy Mays, I am sorry to hear that.

Confusing Willie Mays Hayes, the iconic self-absorbed speedster from Major League (played by a young Wesley Snipes), with Willie Mays, I could have maybe handled with more grace.  Confusing my all-time favorite baseball star with the late TV pitchman, that hurts a little.

I am certain that my 1970s and 1980s perspective on life frustrated my elders from time to time as I grew up.  I probably confused Winston Churchill with Churchill Downs, and Yogi Bear with Yogi Berra.  It’s natural, I suppose, that we view all of life through the prism of the times in which we live.  It is the times when I realize that Willie Mays will someday be forgotten that I feel really old, though.

And a little pissed off, too, I might add.