I was sitting around one day thinking as I am sometimes prone to doing. I thought about how I have changed since I was a young man. Some of the changes have been physical. Some of the changes have been mental. Some have been fiscal. All of the changes, for better or worse, have made me the wonderfully well adjusted person I am today. This is not to say that change is either good or bad. It simply is. Nothing is as lasting as change.

For starters, I can say the physical changes associated with getting older are many and varied. Take pain, for instance. When I was younger, I actually had to do something substantial to cause pain. Whether it was sports, bike wrecks, or horseplay, there was something in the mode of an activity that I was involved in which was causing the pain. Now, in order to feel pain, all I really have to do is go to bed. A lot of my sundry aches and pains come from sleeping wrong. When I was young I did not know that it was even possible to sleep wrong. I was known to sleep on floors, couches, and once, after college finals, a barstool. In all that assorted slumber, I rarely ever felt any ill effect from the act of sleeping itself. There was plenty of ill effect from the drinking but never the sleeping.

A typical morning nowadays starts thusly: "Ooh, ouch, crap."

"What's wrong, Boo?"

"I think I slept wrong. Should my right shoulder be behind my left ear?"

Other physical changes include a lifelong battle with the bulge. I've yo-yoed several times over the years. Each swing back down becomes harder than the last. Each time the motivation to exercise becomes harder and harder to stoke. This also brings about a unique situation concerning my wardrobe. Anyone who has repeatedly gained and lost weight always likes to believe that once the weight is off that this time will be the last time. Somehow though, I always manage to keep the fat clothes. It's sort of a dietetic "trust but verify". The inverse is true as well. When I balloon back up, I save the skinny clothes. One can estimate fairly accurately the last time I was svelte by how far out of style my clothes are. I am virtually a walking time capsule. I am nearly always three to four years behind the trend. On the upside, when I go back to Kansas, I am always in style. However, there is one item concerning my endomorphic nature that hasn't changed over the years. It is a fact that many people have names for their various, ahem, body parts. For as long as I can remember, I've called mine Hoffa. This is mainly because I haven't seen it since 1974.

As I have gotten older, I have also noticed that I mark time in a different way. When I was a kid, time was marked in terms of the next big milestone I couldn't wait to get to. Whether it was the last day of school, the opening of the county fair, or the next birthday or holiday, I spent most of my time looking forward to the upcoming landmark, perhaps at the expense of fully enjoying the moment I was in. At this time in my life, time moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. I find that now time is marked by when I, my friends, or my family members have had medical procedures or when someone I know has passed on. After about thirty, it was almost impossible to call the folks without hearing about an aunt, uncle, or cousin who had gone to the family reunion in the sky. A call home sometimes went as follows:

"Hey mom, how's it going?"

"Oh, pretty good. We went and saw your brother Marty the other day. By the way, did you know that Rudolph Rogers died last week?"

"Ummm....... who exactly is Rudolph again?"

"He's your third cousin twice removed on my mother's side."

"Nope. I hadn't heard that."

That is also a characteristic of my march to middle age. My short term memory has gone to hell. All too often now, I have people come up and talk to me and it is patently obvious that they know who I am, but I have absolutely no idea who they are or how they know me. While they pepper the conversation with mention of my name, I am reduced to the dead giveaway of "Heyyyy......youuu. How's it going guy?" I knew I was entering a bold new age of forgetfulness when it happened at least once a week that I had to stick my fingers up the sleeve of my shirt and into my armpit before leaving for work to verify that I had, in fact, put on deodorant. Pet names for spouses also come in very handy as one ages as there is the very real probability that at one time or another, one will forget his spouse's name.

As I age, I also find that my mind works in a wonderfully random way. I can be doing just about anything, and then my brain starts to ponder things that will randomly boggle my mind. For instance, if a blind man was standing near railroad tracks and a tornado and a freight train were approaching him simultaneously, how would he know which was which? Or how about this? What is it called when a tick has an anxious mannerism? A nervous human? These are the kinds of thoughts that keep me awake at night.

My dreams and fantasies have changed a lot over the years as well. When I was younger, most of my fantasies involved the opposite sex, jello, or both things at the same time. Now, my fantasies center on paying off my mortgage and writing the great American novel or two. I'd even settle for a mediocre cash producing juggernaut. That is, in fact, my retirement plan. It's actually a two pronged plan. I either a) win the powerball jackpot, or b) sell my book. In a perfect world both things would happen at just about the same time. By the way, I don't think God does the standard agent contract when it comes to lotteries. I promised Him 15% (20% foreign) and I'd even be responsible for all necessary photocopies but so far, nada.

My dream home growing up was different than it is now, as well. I would day dream in school and draw up plans for my dream home. It would have a sunken living room. A bar would magically arise via hydraulics from the floor level behind the couch. The couch would actually be a leather bound monstrosity of a sectional that would, by simply moving the large, leather bound ottoman adjacent to it, comfortably sleep ten people. All of the audio-visual equipment as well as the lighting would be controlled via remote. I never really gave any thought to the rest of the house. In my dream, most of the action happened in the living room. Today my dream home is anything in a ranch style of about two thousand square feet with a good mountain view. And did I mention paid off? Paid off would be nice.

The only thing that remains certain is that I will continue to change. Most changes will be good; some may not be quite as good. But they will all continue to shape the person I am constantly becoming. Hopefully, that person is a person of substance and value. If not, I can always change.