The front line of the baby boomers has moved well into the Social Security age and there are a few million more right behind them by a decade or less who are singing the tune “I’m not as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.”

Beside the automatic delivery of vitamins every month, the switch from acid rock to acid reflux, and the acceptance that instead of going to a hip new joint they will be receiving a new hip joint, the absolute worst reality comes from the workforce that is now employed by that “older” generation.

Those young 20-some-things ask questions that should get their head knocked off and say things that probably will. They have no idea that the Rolling Stones band has no relation to kidney stones or that Willie Nelson didn’t always have a braid.

“Waylon who? Didja know Johnny Cash only wore black? Rad huh? When I listen to your music it makes me want to find some polyester to wear. Who was Wolfman Jack?”

Youngster, when I was your age it was embarrassing to wear clothes with rips in them. “Like what, dude? You didn’t buy them like that?”

No, but I did rip out the neck and sleeves of my sweatshirts during the Flash Dance craze and added a twisted bandana headband to my curls, but that’s another story.

“Eight tracks? What are eight tracks? An album is what? So did you guys, like dance, in high school? So when you were a kid, did you, like, have any fun? You had a pen pal? What exactly is a pen pal? So if you didn’t have a cell phone, real phone, TV or electricity, how did you live?”

And the questions go on.

“So, if someone wanted to leave a message, how exactly would they have done that? Like how old were you when you had a microwave? Wadda-ya-mean no Victoria’s Secret? Like where did you get your underwear? You sat in a car to watch a movie? Why?”

The 70s was a time of long hair that progressed to today’s basic longing for hair.

Weekend disco has become weekend Costco. The decade of taking acid turned to a new millennium of taking antacid. Passing the driver’s test is now challenged only by passing the vision test.

We have come from trying to look like Marlon Brando and Liz Taylor to trying not to look like Marlon Brando and Liz Taylor.

The focus on “seeds and stems” of the 70s has become simply about fiber and roughage. Hoping for a BMW evolved to hope for a BM. A KEG was for the life of the party and now it is EKG for life.

The predominate color in my childhood photos was plaid and usually in corduroy. Anybody wear corduroy anymore?

We typed on typewriters that had ribbons and most were not yet electric. We had super-sized bell bottoms, platform shoes, pet rocks and the first “Earth Day.” We wore bubble gum lip gloss, Heaven Scent perfume, halter tops, tube tops and mirrored sunglasses. Farrah Fawcett’s winged hair style was all the rage.

Today we look for senior discounts, get AARP Magazine in the mail and hope we can last a few more years before the first knee replacement. We cover the gray, soften the lines, hide the lumps and wonder where our eyelashes went.

“I’m not as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.” As long as I get to pick when that once happens.

Julie finds some enjoyment in the slower pace of life because she can’t go fast anyway. She can be reached for comment at