Aging is like living in a used car. Things wear out. Spare parts are hard to come by. The warranty has expired.

You can hurt yourself just by sleeping. People younger than you begin showing up in the obituary column. Your goals change. You decide you would like to outlive a deceased parent. Your doctor and dentist retire. You retire. Time flies. What to do?

Today, class, we are going to take a light-hearted look at Mr. Death. He is lurking out there in the Deep Woods, waiting for all of us to wander into his clearing.

“What?” you say. “It can’t be so. I am too important to exit stage right.” Au contraire.

Today’s lesson will demonstrate that there is an alternative to going one-on-one with Mr. Death: old age or running for President. We are now enjoying a Presidential election year between two older and visibly aging gentlemen: President Biden and former President Trump. Someone described the upcoming election as a contest between Grandpa Simpson and Mr. Burns.

Let a hundred flowers of angry political ads bloom. Our geriatric candidates spurred me to produce this column on aging. I was born in the middle of the last century which makes me a prime candidate for the Great Beyond.

Phooey!

But when you consider the alternative, aging is not a bad deal. If you are lucky, you will one day achieve that awkward age between 64 and death.

Paul McCartney wondered if his gal would still need him and still feed him when he is 64. Paul is now 81. He now knows the answer to that musical question. Eventually, even 64 will seem young.

Once retired, you have more time to attend funerals, see medical professionals to treat bizarre conditions you never considered when you were in your 30s, and have the ability to shamelessly yell, “Hey you kids! Get off my lawn.”

If you are of a certain demographic group, you may remember the 1957 movie “On the Beach.” The plot is simple; World War III has happened, most of the world has been destroyed, and radiation is spreading to the last outpost of life — Australia.

The people of Australia know that the radiation cloud will kill all of them in a few months and are essentially waiting for death.

The radiation cloud is a metaphor for aging. Once humans reach a certain age, the outcome is inevitable. Dogs do not have this problem, as they are blissfully unaware of the concept of Mr. Death.

There is no guarantee you will wake up tomorrow. This seems a bad deal, but that is the card humans have been dealt. After age 64, using a football analogy, you are in the 4th quarter of life with no guarantee of overtime.

You can hope for overtime, but when the referee blows the whistle to end the game, that’s all she wrote. I have a theory that as people enter the 4th quarter, their veneer of civilization begins to thin out and break down.

Older people become more like themselves without the buffer of politeness to conceal their hidden identity. Their thin candy shell of social niceties melts like a bag of M&M’s left in a hot car in July. This explains the phenomenon of Grumpy Old Men.

So, what should be done to stave off Mr. Death? Allow me to offer several theories.

First, decide to treat your body like you would your pet dog. This is the veterinary theory of longevity.

If your dog is sick, you would not hesitate to take him to the vet. If you find yourself sick, send your body to the doctor. Don’t hope it will just pass.

Treat yourself at least as well as you would treat your Dachshund. Find a group of aging contemporaries to meet with on a regular basis.

We have such a group that meets for coffee most mornings. We are the Panera Council on World Domination. We have lengthy discussions over who will win various sporting events, which Presidential candidate is the Anti-Christ, the merits of which food item is worse — Brussels sprouts or boiled peanuts — military theory, gun ownership, and which of the other patrons that day may be serial killers.
Conversations are quite lively, occasionally loud, and frequently surreally ridiculous. A splendid time is had by all. Then we go home and take a nap.

You have choices as you age. You can become bitter. You can become afraid and hide under a quilt and sob quietly. Or you can decide to go out and enjoy yourself while the light lasts. Use your time wisely.
I offer no hypothesis.