So a few months ago I turned 55. I honestly didn’t think much of it. You see, once you get passed a certain age the significance of each passing year becomes a bit of a yawner.
Or so I thought…
A few weeks into my 56th year I was alerted to the fact that my paycheck had come in about $50 less than it had been all year. “Hmmm” I thought. “Must be one of those end of the year catch-up taxes or fees.”
So I researched it and discovered that the change was related to a life insurance premium. I shot a quick email out to my HR rep for clarification. When she wrote back…
…that’s when I got the bad news.
Apparently my insurance company feels that turning 55 makes me materially more likely to cash in on that life insurance policy. Not to put too fine a point on it….they think I am more likely to die.
I don’t fault them. The numbers are what the numbers are. And honestly, the news that each passing year brings you closer to the end of life is not any kind of surprising revelation.
On the other hand…I could do without the reminders.
But here’s the thing. I don’t feel old. In fact, I am feeling pretty dang good. I’m feeling like I am in my prime. I mean, sure, I might be starting to show a little gray in the beard. I’m not as limber as I once was. I make kind of a groaning sound when I take my socks off at night. Sure.
But I’m also still learning at a high pace. I’m smarter about eating than ever before. I’m on a regular exercise schedule. I’m seeing a doctor at least twice a year. I’m wiser than I once was. Younger people seem to seek my counsel more frequently than ever….
Wait a minute.