SIXTY'S THE NEW FORTY, YOU KNOW

I never knew what that meant. Pink's the new brown. Sixty's the new forty. Pink is pink, brown is brown, and 60 well, it's defining. And it's not 40.

I have to make a couple of phone calls today. To two of my best buds who are turning 60 this weekend. My best man turned that dreaded number last month. I didn't have the heart to call him.

I mean we had trouble turning 30. We of the generation that was told not to trust anyone over 30. Now we have reached or are fast approaching double that number.

Another good friend is coming today to our fair city for a few weeks. He likes to "do up" Scottsdale, so we'll have Mexican food complete with mariachi band tonight. He's going to the Gun Club tomorrow for some shoot-em-ups. And Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday we'll play golf.

We're already lamenting playing 3 days in a row. Riding in golf carts. Eighteen holes only. Are you kidding me? This is the same guy who used to wait for me to get finished teaching Summer School at noon. In Southern Illinois. Then we'd take off for 18 or 27 holes. We'd walk them. With a gym towel over our heads. And we had a ball. By the way, we did that 5 days a week. We usually sprung for golf carts on Saturday only.

I think he's already reached that age milestone. The one that I said defines. But I'm not saying what that defines. You see, I'm a full 6 months away, so what would I really know about those guys in another decade. Meanwhile, I'll bask in the 50-somethings. But that carousel's going 'round. Way too fast.