I’ve come to the conclusion that "getting old" is simply what happens when society stops telling you things.

I’ve come to the conclusion that "getting old" is simply what happens when society stops telling you things.


Like, for instance, when it suddenly becomes uncool to shop at a certain store, but you don’t know anyone young enough to let you know. Right now, there’s a bunch of 30-somethings walking around in American Eagle or Abercrombie shirts they bought back when said stores were the cool places to shop. And they probably think they’re still projecting a reasonable image of hipness, when in reality, they’re doing just the opposite.


What kind of shirt projects "cool" to 20-somethings — the keepers of cool — right now? I have no idea. I couldn’t even venture a guess. These are people who barely even remember those sprawling, bygone structures we once called "malls." Who knows what drives their habits? Certainly not me.


So I have come to grips with the fact that at some point, I crossed over. Through whatever avenues such proclamations are made, "cool" changed, and no one thought to tell me.


And nowhere is that crossover more apparent than with popular music. I can’t say that I ever really enjoyed pop music, but I was, until recently, vaguely aware which artists were, in fact, popular. I had heard most songs, and could feign an understanding of their relative popularity at any given moment.


Now? Nothing. Some little waif named Adriana Grande came and went before I had ever even heard of her. In fact, I just looked it up. Her name isn’t even Adriana. It’s Ariana. That’s literally a case in point.


Fortunately, researchers have my back when it comes to this phenomenon. They released a study last April showing people stop caring about — and caring for — popular music at age 33.


My birthday’s in two months. Guess how old I’ll be.


So I’m not cool anymore. I’ve accepted it. I’m moving on, and I’m taking my 90s tunes with me. Music was better back then, anyway.



Happy birthday Sunday to Linda Cripps, Etta Slate, Lee Brendel, Royce Davidson, Lewis Anthony Hughley, Rhonda Mask, Monique Davis, James Andrews and Herbert "Pops" Allen, all of Sherman; Polly Staley of Denison; Caiden Stevenson of Southmayd; Marcus Jones of Dallas; Monique Davis; Kyna Summers; "Angel" Wilola Walker; Lynne Dingley Gartman of Uvalde; Maci Rogers of Whitesboro; and Gary Reed of Gunter.