Yours sincerely, wasting away

I'm pretty sure my first experiences with mortality came from playing Oregon Trail in my elementary school computer lab. I loved firing up the old Apple IIe, choosing which of my friends would be traveling the trail with me, and hoping we would make it to Oregon but not caring if we didn't. Because if we didn't, that would mean I'd get to laugh at the thought of my pals dying of cholera or snake bite or because they didn't like the wild fruit I found, plus I got to write silly things on the tombstones.

By the time I attended my first funeral, just before I turned 11, death was not a fearful or even a particularly sad thing for me. My faith in my religion's teachings about the afterlife played a major role in this attitude, but Oregon Trail may have played just as big a part. On the Trail, death just meant a chance to write a funny epitaph, then immediately start a new game. Life goes on.

(By the way, I made the above tombstone at this cool site. I love the Internet!)

Although I don't fear death, over the last week or two a number of things have happeend that have made me feel old.

--For months, my mom has told me my deodorant makes me smell like an old man. It never bothered me. But when the same criticism comes from Schmidt...well, that hurts.

--I've been growing my beard out for Halloween. It's been a little over three months since my last shave, the longest my facial hair has ever been. It's also coming in with better thickness and consistency than past beard attempts...but there are also a few white hairs scattered throughout. (My costume will end up being mustache-only, but I'll post some beard pics here before I shave it off.)

--I went to a YSA dance on Monday night. I certainly wasn't the only emeritus YSA in attendance, and I still had fun, but I did stop dancing for a while and talked to a fellow "oldie" about how there was too much Black Eyed Peas, Ke$ha, etc., being played and not nearly enough Spice Girls or Third Eye Blind. I also needed the break because my stamina isn't nearly what it was during my dancing days in high school and college, but I'm pretty sure that has much more to do with me being in terrible shape than my age.

--The other day at dinner group, the girl who was hosting said "You've got to listen to this weird song that just came on my Halloween Pandora station!" The song in question turned out to be the "funny farm" song. (Was this the first mainstream example of autotuning? Hmm...) Now, that song is much older than me, but since none of the girls at dinner (average age around 27) had heard it, I felt like it must be a tune from "my" era.

--Finally, Saturday is my half-birthday. I am now 32.5 years old. Exactly halfway to the standard retirement age. And if my retirement savings in the next 32.5 years equal what I saved in the first 32.5...I'm pretty much screwed.

Luckily, just when I needed it most, Oregon Trail came through for me again. In case you didn't know, I Tweet for JetBlue Airways (and in case I haven't made it clear before, my personal blog/Twitter feed/Facebook page are just that--personal, as in, not affiliated with JetBlue). A few days ago a customer Tweeted about us and made an OT reference that my "old" coworkers didn't get. Fortunately, I was around to reply. Here's the exchange:

If you don't get my joke, then you're either old, or missed out on an important part of childhood. One of my favorite games has once again made me feel young, and helped me stave off worrying about death or even retirement, at least for another week.

The scriptures have helped, too. This week's Sunday School lesson covers the version of the Sermon on the Mount that Jesus gave to the Nephites after resurrection. The Lord knows, age is just a number--"Old things are done away, and all things have become new" (3 Ne. 12:47). He also knew that saving for retirement isn't really a big deal, teaching that we should lay up treasures in heaven rather than on earth, and to take no thought about food or clothing (see 3 Ne. 13:19-32). So I guess I'm doing all right.

Ok, I'm being slightly facetious. It is important to be prepared and responsible in temporal matters. But whether I die "young" or live to retirement age, and whether my retirement home is in the Willamette Valley, or on the funny farm, or even just livin' on a prayer (you know, because I'm halfway there), it doesn't matter. I know I will die someday, and I'm all right with that. Because there is life after death. And because it will give me one last chance to say something funny.