Yes, I Do Sometimes Feel Old

Of Time, Crummy Knees and Making the Best Of It

'Cause you can't, you won't, and you don't stop

Recently, Little Bean and I made a pilgrimage to GameStop to replenish her Pokemon deck and eyeball some upcoming Nintendo games.

As we were checking out, the very young clerk asked me if I wanted to give him my phone number. I wasn’t a member, however, so he cheerfully asked:

“Do you know if maybe one of her parents is a member? We could use their number.”

It took me a moment to realize he did not think I was her father. “Well, I’m her dad so no,” I said a bit more testily, in retrospect, than I should have.

The rest of the transaction went by awkwardly, but quickly.

How do I put this diplomatically? I am an old dad. I was about to type “but I don’t feel old,” except, yes, I do sometimes feel old.

My knees are garbage. My hair is escaping my head and increasing in my ears. I can barely head-bang to Metallica with her these days without getting dizzy. The other day, one of her nine-year-old friends stopped by wearing a retro AC/DC concert t-shirt, and it occurred to me that I ATTENDED that concert tour - in person - a million years ago.

My dad was 40 when he had me. I was older when I had her.

If I’m perfectly honest with myself, doing the math makes me depressed. Also a bit desperate. The calculations that lead to her graduation, her own family, grandkids and a half dozen other life events I’d like to be there for are, well, not on my side.

I am going to hurt myself being there for her in the ways I want to be. It’s only a matter of time.

There are some advantages, however. We are, and she will be, financially stable. I’ve gained some life experience and connections I wouldn’t otherwise have had in my twenties. I know things. (Besides knowing the year Ronnie James Dio joined Black Sabbath.)

I’ve made mistakes that I can now recognize and not make again.

And I’m pretty sure I have an emotional maturity that I know wasn’t there twenty years ago.

I feel like I can love her more. Is more the right word? Stronger? Set a better example maybe? I’m uncertain how to describe it.

There’s a lot of belly button gazing going on here, isn’t there? I’ve been mistaken as her grandfather before so this isn’t new. But maybe I just feel the creak in my knees more lately. Maybe she’s faster and heavier. Maybe she needs me to be faster. (Not heavier though.)

Every since she was a toddler, we’ve had this occasional bedtime ritual that she calls a Bed Spin. She’ll roll into my arms and then I’ll spin around a few times and roll/spin her back onto the bed. One of these days, my back is gonna go out. Or I’m going to wipe out after making myself faint.

But I’m not going down without a fight because she’s worth it.

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Housekeeping: First, if you’d like to read another essay on ancient dads, my friend and wonderful writer Nate Graziano just penned this hilarious (or terrifying) column, check it out: Every Body Hurts.

Second, so many thank yous to all of you wonderful humans who suggested names in our Name the Rocks Contest last week. So, so many names! Too many for Little Bean to figure out in seven days so we’ll let you know the winners next week hopefully!

Meantime, it occurred to me that in two weeks, we’ll reach Day By Day’s one year anniversary! What will you all be getting us for our birthday, hmmm?

We’re rocketing into the fall now, and we hope you’re all having a lovely season. Stay kind, keep reading and pretty please feel free to share this site, we’d love to have new subscribers. See you soon!