Here’s a deep, philosophical question for you to ponder: Does one become an old-fogey overnight or is it a more gradual process? Because I think I’m there, I’m just not sure how I got here.
I came to this stunning, and rather depressing, realization today while riding in my car, when I discovered I now almost exclusively listen to the oldies station. Why, you ask? Because music today? It’s nothing but noise. (Do I sound like anyone’s Paw-Paw yet?) The keyword here in distinguishing me as an old-fogey is “exclusively”. Burge argued that he’s been listening to the oldies station for 20 years now. But not exclusively. I will flip through the other stations, just to see if there’s a song on that I know. But nine times out of ten, I wind up back on the oldies station.
This is a slippery slop I’ve embarked upon. What is the next step? Will I soon (and this thought makes me break out into a cold sweat) start listening to country music? Shudder. How much longer will it be before I think hymns are the only music God appreciates? Oh, the agony of it all. Pardon me while I turn up my hearing aid. Soon, I’ll be driving with my blinker on continuously and stopping at green lights.
Yep, it’s all downhill from here. It stinks getting old.