My Old-Guy Manifesto

I don't want to be that type of old guy.

The kind of old guy I don't want to be has become an issue I've contemplated in recent weeks, now that I stand at the precipice of actually being an old guy. The signs are clear. I'm starting to experience the onset of wobbly old-guy ailments: aching joints, fallen arches, forgetfulness, graying temples, a hankering for VapoRub, the tendency to use words like "hankering."

Of course, there exist certain conditions to being an old guy that are unavoidable. And I am willing to accept the conditions over which I have no control.

For instance, I will suffer through the indignities of scheduled prostate examinations and will follow the doctor's directions for good prostate health. And, since I don't want to be one of those old guys, I hope that I won't constantly bore friends, family, casual acquaintances and random strangers with every last detail of my prostate situation and how the Medicare process worked.

Also, I don't want to be the old guy whose only social concern is his tax bill. What's up with those old guys, anyway? These old guys have enjoyed the full experience of an abundant life in the greatest country in the world, yet all they seem to care about in their sunset years are taxes? Age and a cantankerous spirit should not be a license to stop caring about others.

In fact, if I ever get to the point that all I do all day is whine about taxes, my family has permission to lead me out back and put me out of my misery.

I wouldn't mind being a cantankerous old guy, incidentally, but I don't want to be the old guy who is bitterly cantankerous all the time.

I don't want to be the old guy who sadly clings to the notion that he's still a teenager.

But I hope to be the old guy who has refined — and not abandoned — his teen-aged sense of justice.

I don't want to be the old guy who listens to AM radio when the game's not on.

But I would like to be the old guy who is still capable of making a fool of himself on the dance floor.

I don't want to be the old guy who limits his selection of literature from whatever happens to be on the shelf at Walmart.

But I would like to feel secure pulling a volume from the "satire" section of the local bookstore.

I don't want to be the old guy who surrounds himself with like-minded old guys.

And I hope you won't mind if I delete those stupid batch-forwarded e-mails that espouse insipid world views you've sent me with instructions to pass them along to all my other old-guy friends.

I don't want to be the old guy who stops caring about public education now that my kids are out of school.

But I'm not going to assume that I've suddenly gained transcendent wisdom just because I'm an old guy.

I don't want to be the old guy who only dines out at chain restaurants in a rigorous campaign to avoid surprises.

I expect I'll always savor a home-cooked meal.

I don't want to be the old guy who simply settles for whatever happens to be on television that night.

But a subscription to the MLB season package on DirecTV would be great in my dotage.

Speaking of which, I don't want to be the old guy who draws his final breath before seeing the San Francisco Giants win a pennant.