There is a 9 1/2 year difference between Bill and me. And, even though I'm the one with the gray hair, it's Bill who is older. I sprouted my first gray hair when I was 17; Bill was 57. Most people think he dyes his hair. I know he doesn't. I dye my hair, he doesn't dye his. It really makes me mad when people guess that it's me who has the 9 1/2 year edge. For the record : I AM YOUNGER. Do you HEAR???
Bill jokes that his secret to youthfulness is slow, steady weight gain. It smooths out the wrinkles. I think it may be his Italian heritage and his refusal to grow up.
Before we were married, the age difference was something I considered. I thought it might matter. Bill hung with an "older crowd" and some of his cohorts even had me intimidated. The maturity level of a 25 year old versus a 35 year old is pretty significant. Now, I don't even think of it. But, apparently Bill does. He has done some analysis and has determined that even though I'm only 9 1/2 years younger, statistically I will be alive for 17 years after his death. He has factored in my sex, my genetics and my habits - he thinks he's a doctor AND a statistician.
Tomorrow I go for my annual check up. I say "annual" even though I don't really remember the last time I had a check up. But, I'm 50, and I know from the billboards on Maple Road that I must have a colonoscopy this year. And, in order to have a colonoscopy you must first have a visit with your primary physician. At dinner tonight, I asked Bill if there was anything I should bring up with my doctor (who is also my uncle) that might be pertinent to my check up. Without missing a beat he said: "Figure out a way that you can die 17 years earlier than I have projected ...that way I can do some serious invasion of principal."
But, who will arrange for the kazoo party??