I used to wonder why people hid their faces when someone was going to take their picture. When you are young, you usually don’t mind cameras too much.

My problem is the image in my head. I imagine myself as being in my 30s. I look down at my skinny legs and don’t really focus on my misshapen, pot-bellied torso. I don’t see the extra skin on my neck or the laugh lines on my face.  So, when I see pictures of myself I am a bit taken aback. Sometimes, I wish I had hidden my face.

Now look, I’m always preaching about appreciating where we are in life.  I’m always saying “Why can’t people embrace growing older” and so on and so on. But most of the time, I’m nothing but a hypocrite.

Michelle and I had our youngest daughter later in life, and we thought nothing of it. We still felt pretty good. We tired out a lot easier than before, but having little ones around tends to keep one spry and fast moving. I will tell you, though, that the days of staying up after the kids went to bed were gone by the time number four came along. 

If she went to bed before 8 p.m., we were close behind and made no apologies. Her older siblings got used to it and adjusted well.

When we decided to have our last baby in our 40s, I never thought much about the future. Sure, I knew I’d be in my early 60s when she graduated high school, and now those days are closer than farther, it doesn’t seem like that far away.

But I will tell you that things are sometimes weird.  

I have chummed around with the dads of some of my daughter’s friends, and most of them are a good 10 years younger or more.  None of them ever make me feel like anything but one of the gang, but every now and then a topic of discussion will come up and I have to say “Well, you’re a lot younger than I am.”  

I must also admit that I often see young, thinner dads with a spring in their step crossing the parking lot at dance class or picking up kids from school and think I’m in the same age group.  

Are we really that out of touch? Do we forget how old we are?

The weirdest thing I have discovered is that many of my former students now have children the same age or close in age to my daughter. When I started teaching, I was around 15 years older than my students, so if you do the math, it makes sense.  

I ran into the parent of one of my former students the other day, and as usual, I ask what’s going on in their world. “Oh, he’s doing great!” said the mother. “He has one graduating from high school next year.”

So then, in my head, I think “Well, they must have married and started a family early.” But really, they didn’t. They got married at a young age and started a family at a fairly traditional time.

I rationalized it somewhat when I was reporting the news to my wife.

“You do realize that you are pushing 60,  right?”

Sheesh. Talk about reality.

I  was recently in a play that I had been in 10 years ago. I have never played a character from the same play twice. The first time I played him, I was the same age as the character. Now, I’m a little long in the tooth to play him.

So, I covered up the gray in my hair somewhat and put on a little more theatrics to appear younger. I’m not sure it worked, but I did my best. I looked at the pix from the production and hoped the audience didn’t notice too much.

Readers, I will promise you my columns are not going to continue to take on a theme of growing old and the ups and downs of retirement.  Or the decay of our bodies as we age.  Or feeling younger than I look. Or needing a nap every day. Or wondering why I can’t work all day long outside without taking at least three breaks. 

I think I may have made that pledge back when I wrote columns about parenting, dealing with parents, and teaching.

So, we’ll see how much I stick to that promise.  Maybe I should just say I will try.