When I grow old.

When I Grow, Old Age is a luxury that I can hardly wait to obtain. When I join the ranks of the elderly, I plan to lead an exciting life. I refuse to spend my golden years playing never-ending games of Bingo and having Sunday brunches as the highlight of my week. Instead, I plan to use to advantages of being senile in truly mischievous manner. When my age reaches the 70's, the fun will begin. No more will I waste precious moments going 25 in the 25 mile-per-hour zone; rather, I will put the petal to the metal. 50! 60! 70! 100! I will race my way along the back-roads of society and leave skid marks as a sign of my passage. If, or when, a friendly, neighborhood officer of the law pulls me over, I would have a slew of excuses only available to people my age, such as: "I couldn't read the speed sign, or the speedometer for that matter!" I could always use the sympathy card: "Officer, can't you see that I am dieing!" What kind of cop could write a ticket to a desperate old man? The answer lies between zero and none. The roads would then belong to the only group of people who can catch no wind in their hair. After my age breaks the 75 years barrier, I will become a lord of tales. We have all heard a story from one of these lords during our lifetime. They normally come from withered old men who enjoy talking about their past; even if most of the time their stories are so incoherent, they might as have spoken in a foreign language. When I tell my stories, however, insanity will be their theme and imagination their plot. The stories I tell will be of wars that never happened, of tragedies and horrors that are such blatant fabrications that denying them would be fiendish. I will recognize a passing stranger and insist that we had fought together on a distant battlefield in World War III. I will ask them how their battalion had ever made it out of the Australian deserts, and then scurry-off with a friendly, "I'd love to talk more, but I have to be on the moon in an hour." Another benefit of age is the ability to act disgruntled. A seeming bewildered old man can validate his bizarre behavior with sympatric plea of ignorance. When I grow old, I do not plan to pay for any household produces I will need. Instead, I will wear baggy clothes to the supermarket and attempt to steal any staple within my grasp. I will cramp toothpaste bottles in my socks, shoes behind my back, and a cereal box near my stomach; even if I throw a hip in the process. When the store manger accuses me of shoplifting, I will put on a face of utmost shock as I pretend to realize that I wasn't in my kitchen after all. Perhaps after a quick pat-down they will let me go on account of my senility. Then I would speed off, going 90 while munching my free snickers bar I had hidden under my cap. The benefits of age are being squandered by today's senor-citizens. We find them asleep on park benches, slow while behind the wheel, and dreary at bingo night. Rest assured, when my day comes to fill the ranks of the walking dead, I will be living the good life. Although my body will age, my spirit will only grow younger.

By Steven Schur

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