Got ya beat! Turned fifty-fing-nine in January. But it's a young fifty-fing-nine. People always tell me they can't fing believe I'm fifty-fing-nine. Still have my hair, hardly any gray, and I'm barely wrinkled at all. But I sag like hell. I have to smile all the time at work so people don't ask me why I'm depressed. "Tom, are you depressed, or just tired?" "No, I'm fine. I'm just fifty-fing-nine!" "You are?! You don't look fifty-fing-nine."
I was in 8th grade when Kennedy was running for President. I did my "President" essay for Mr. Wright on Kennedy. Good thing he got elected. Otherwise I'd have had to do it over. Can you imagine writing a President essay on Nixon? Yick.