This epiphany on aging was a sobering moment | Sam Venable

Like every generation since the dawn of creation, we Baby Boomers realize “tempus is fugiting” at a record pace. Meaning one thing:

We. Are. Old.

Gone are polite titles like “senior adults” and “sage elders.” We are card-carrying ancients, croaks, geezers — yes, the same doddering dolts we chuckled about Way Back When.

We know the bitter truth about cute cliches on the order of “70 is the new 50” and “80 is the new 60.” Horse manure! Seventy is, and has always been, seven decades. Eighty is, and has always been, eight decades.

All of this I understand. All of this I accept, if somewhat grudgingly.

But a few days ago, reality slapped me hard enough to knock a stream of codger drool off my chin. It happened on my way to a meeting at the University of Tennessee.

I’d left my car in the Vol Hall public parking garage on White Avenue. (Translation for fossilized coots: It’s where the old Byerly’s Cafeteria was located.)

Walked half a block west, to the intersection of White Avenue and 16th Street. (Just above the Rose Hole, where the old Ramsey’s Cafeteria was located after Byerly’s closed.)

Turned south and walked one block, crossed Cumberland Avenue (still The Strip, thankfully) and set out toward the Haslam College of Business (old Glocker Business Administration Building.)

With every step, I gawked like a hillbilly in Hollywood. Lordy! Where’d all these new buildings come from?

Please understand: It’s not like I just flew in from Mars.

I’m a Knoxville native, for Pete’s sake. Grew up in and around the UT campus, especially Alumni Gym (reverse translation for today’s Vol students: Alumni Memorial Building), where my father taught physical education (now known as Kinesiology, Recreation and Sports Studies) for over 25 years.

What’s more, I graduated from this very hallowed hill, Class of 1969.

But no matter how familiar I’d always been with the place, no matter how many times I’ve been back to speak to classes, cover sporting events, attend meetings, receptions and seminars, everything suddenly seemed foreign.

I did some quick mental math — and that’s when reality dope-stroked me upside the head.

Holy alma mater! A UT alum from 1969 who is wandering around on campus in 2024 equates to a UT alum from 1914 who might have done the same thing in 1969! Daaa-yum…

I should’ve skipped my meeting, hobbled over to The Strip and drowned my sorrows in drink. That remedy has always been available — 1914, 1969, 2024 or whenever. In the Land of Large Orange, some things never change.

Sam Venable’s column appears every Sunday. Contact him at sam.venable@outlook.com.

This article originally appeared on Knoxville News Sentinel: Sam Venable: This epiphany on aging was a sobering moment