The picture that accompanies this column is a little misleading — my hair is actually greyer than it appears in the picture.
I am reminded that grey seems to be winning the battle as the dominant colour of my hair each time I get a haircut, like I did last weekend.
I used to describe my hair as brown with a hint of red. Over time, this description changed to brown with flecks of grey. Eventually, I started describing it as a salt and pepper hair colour; then salt and pepper with more salt than pepper. Now, it’s mostly salt.
Fortunately, I still have most of my hair, which is more than I can say for many of my male friends and in-laws
Grey hair does have a few advantages. Sometimes, I can get away with ordering from the seniors’ menu at restaurants.
Apparently, the number of decades separating my birthday from that of my server, which makes it difficult for me to guess their age, works both ways — they don’t know how old I am and they aren’t about to challenge me.
Times have certainly changed with the years.
These days being carded means being asked to prove you qualify for the seniors’ menu.
In my younger days, when someone asked whether I had a good night, a positive response usually depended upon how little sleep was involved.
For instance, there was the time I attended the first Who (I know, some younger readers are asking: Who?) farewell concert at Maple Leaf Gardens and sat so close to the sound system, I still had ringing in my ears the next morning.
Back then, that was a great night.
Or the mid-week night when I saw the Leafs beat Wayne Gretzky’s (please don’t ask who?) Oilers, also at the Gardens.
Now, the same question solicits, “Yes, I was asleep by ten and only woke twice, once for me and once for the dog.”
I am not sure exactly when, but at some point most of the cultural and historical milestones of my youth, or for that matter my young adult life, occurred before most of my co-workers were born.
Forget discussing with them when the Beatles first appeared on the Ed Sullivan show, or when they broke up, or even where they were when John Lennon was killed.
On the other hand, some co-workers marvel at the fact I can actually remember watching the Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup on TV (black and white, of course).
While some reporters fondly recall their first computer, I can remember my first typewriter.
For the most part, people with grey hair should proceed with caution when reminiscing about the past with co-workers or risk staring at a room full of blank stares and thoughts of, “What’s the old geezer rambling on about now?”
I could try dyeing my hair, but who would I be kidding ? You’ve already seen the grey-haired picture.
Nope, for better or worse, I am getting used to seeing the grey-haired image that stares back at me in the mirror.
Until a few days ago, I used to think that on the plus side I was getting a little closer to retirement.
But then the prime minister dropped a hint the federal government was considering boosting the retirement age to 67.
Thanks a lot.
By the way, is it my imagination or is Stephen Harper’s hair looking like it has a little more salt than pepper these days?
Welcome to the club.
Hamilton Community News Managing Editor Rod Jerred can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org or follow him on Twitter @HCN_editor.