I didn’t receive a single graduation invitation this year. That’s a bad thing. And that’s not because I fear I am no longer popular with nieces, nephews, and other close relationships, it’s because they have all graduated, which means only one thing to me.

I snorted and tossed the first piece of mail I received from AARP. I need no obvious reminder. All mail received 10 days before to five days after Dec. 17, is also shredded unopened, unseen. At ticket counters, I see only adult and children prices, there are no others. I need no reminders. There are already too many subtle ones that I don’t even notice until I already have accepted them thus proving my age to me.

E-mail is the first wily pointing finger I will mention. When I open it up, the first thing I reach for is my reading glasses. Then, 15 minutes later I notice they have slipped down to the end of my nose and an image of an old school librarian looking a lot like me appears, only this time laughing raucously. Humph! Before I realize what I’ve done, I have forwarded several e-mails titled, ‘Remember When.’ Argh!

Too often, I have found myself in this situation.

“Awhdjk r lfr er; rf.”

“What?” I ask, forcing my hand away from cupping my ear.

“AWHDJK R LFR, RF.”

Sometimes I just nod. Once I tried to blame my hearing loss as a result of being exceptionally cool.

“Sorry,” I said. “Too many concerts — Rolling Stones, Led Zepplin, Ted Nugent, Black Sabbath.”

“Who are they?” the young folks asked.

Ouch. A double reminder.

Planning vacations can also bring subtle reminders. Can’t go there — too much sun, too physical, too cold, too hot, when will I nap? I want to hike up to an alpine lake and spend a few days fishing in the wilderness but I won’t go until I secure some pack animals; I can’t carry the weight anymore.

I vaguely remember pointing and laughing at the senior patrol on their Jazzy scooters heading for the mall. Now when I see the commercial, I try to envision how to soup it up, maybe camouflage it as a motorcycle or Mini Cooper, till I snap out of it and realize what I’m thinking.

Aspirin, Tylenol and Aleve, along with Rogaine, Hydrocortisone, Advicor, Celebrex and many others have slowly slipped their way into my medicine cabinet. I can’t make believe that someone else put them there or the temporary memory loss becomes accusatory.

Nothing age related about reading the labels of food products in the grocery store as I look longingly at the powered carts. I slip on my reading glasses and run my finger down the nutritional list. I realize with dismay I’m not looking for vitamin A, B or C. I’m looking for fiber.

They say memory goes first and I am hoping it does — memory of my current age.

I will fight old age with my last dying breaths. With my new partners, Dr. Scholls and Ben-Gay, the latest superhero Fibercon, working out of our new clubhouse Just For Men, we will depend on each other to fight the good fight. May the furrows my fingernails leave as I am dragged against my will into old age rival the Grand Canyon.

Glenn Parkhurst moved to Stansbury Park in 2003 from the East Coast and uses his observations while living in Tooele County to inspire his writing.