DARTBOARD

The Truth About Getting Old

Strapping young men of the College: Uncle Sam wants you for his armed forces, and you ought to feel honored. But I can top that. The AARP wants me. Yes, you read correctly. The American Association of Retired Persons invited me to join their elderly legions this week. There's nothing like it to make a person feel special.

"Would any of your friends have put you on the mailing list as a joke?" my father wondered aloud. Nope. As quirky as my friends might be, I couldn't see anyone signing me up for a senior citizens' discount account.

"Who could have sent this to you?" Dad queried. He couldn't believe that the letter was for me, and for real. But it proved to be authentic; it even bore the signature of Horace Deets, the Executive Director. Horace offered me Modern Maturity, a "handsome, helpful magazine [that] brings you hours of enjoyable reading," employment guides, seminars, AARP pharmacy service and travel benefits, among other delights. (Thanks to direct mailings like these, Modern Maturity is actually the largest circulation magazine in the United States.) Oh, and how could I forget? I also received my very own membership identification code, along with a little white card with my name and home address--lest I forget where I live--and the business address of the Executive Director, you know, my new friend Horace--lest I forget where to send my moulah.

As I neared my twentieth birthday not too long ago, I was indeed fretting over my age. But I have to wonder about this letter: Did I really deserve to earn my stripes so early? After all, the AARP only invited my father to join when he turned 50, and I will have only two decades under my belt by next week. Ah, me, what a birthday card. Is this the cue to stop looking forward to birthdays? MELISSA ROSE LANGSAM