I keep trying to convince myself that I'm not getting old. I just assume that most people feel worse after they sleep than when they go to bed, and surely even young men are finding that the hair in their ears is growing more rapidly than the hair on their head. Can there be any doubt that the true sign that you're getting old is not that you forget your wife's name, but your own.
But I am starting to wonder if I'm kidding myself. Yesterday while I was waiting to check out at the supermarket, I looked at the magazine covers. There were stories about the Speidi's reuniting and another one about Katy. It wasn't a Katy I knew. And I have no idea who the Speidi's are, much less what caused them to break up in the first place.
I then looked at the other magazines in the rack. Lots of first names that meant nothing to me. And lots of pictures of people whom I wouldn't serve a drink without two photo IDs.
I realized at that moment that I have grown old. Or, to be exact, that there are lots of people around who are much younger than me. I kind of guessed it earlier when I got my regular iTunes e-mail with new releases and didn't recognize a single name. But I know I've been out of step with modern music. When I hear that the kids like hip-hop music, I can't help wondering why this urban music has a name straight out of "Here Comes Peter Cottontail."
There used to be a way of measuring your social intelligence that was not based on what you knew, but what you were aware of. I think it was Q something or other, but as happens a lot lately, I can't quite recall. But I can say with certainty that my score in that regard would be a whole lot lower today than when I was, say, a young 50-year-old.
Last night I was on the Huffington Post web site, and did something I don't often do. I paid attention to the bits that I don't know. And here's what I discovered. There's lots of people that are apparently newsworthy of whom I have not the slightest awareness.
Take, for example, the headlines: "Crystal Bowersox's Privacy Breached by Snooping Ohio Officials", "Spencer Pratt Apologizes for Outrageous and Infantile Behavior", "Rachel Dratch Gives Birth" and "Heidi Montag Massages Breast Implants, Laments Ear Pinning".
OK, you may know who all of these people are, but I do not. And I am fairly sure that I would remember a name like Crystal Bowersox. I certainly would remember someone who massages their breast implants and wants the world to know about it.
There was even a picture that made me aware how out-of-touch I am getting.
OK, I know that's Halle Berry. But I honestly don't have a clue who the guy is. And yet the web site assumes he's so well known that they don't even need to name him. It is small comfort to know that the kids who know all of these people probably wouldn't have a chance of recognizing Annette and Fabian.
Oh well, it's probably not all bad that I'm out of the loop. Because I didn't know who Taylor Momsen is, I wasn't tempted to read this report: