Well, my 60th birthday has come and gone. I have quietly slipped over to the other side. I am now eligible for services that are offered by my agency. I can donate $3 for a remarkably good meal at one of our dining centers (one of the best bargains in Delaware County). I can take a trip to Kingston on our bus. I can participate as a senior in one of our exercise classes. I can get a senior discount at innumerable places of business. Like most people, though, I have trepidations. Sixty, after all, represents society’s chronological threshold to life’s final chapter. (What? I’m not going to live forever?)

Some things in life will become more serious. My debt to society, for instance; I’ll have to stop putting off opportunities, when they come up, to lend someone in need of a helping hand. And no, my work here at the Office for the Aging doesn’t really count. I get paid to do things for others here. The actions that have true worth are those that are born out of real sacrifice without expectation of reciprocation.

Health issues are another serious reality coupled with the golden years. I have several friends near my age who are facing major health crises and who are undergoing painful medical treatments. This is worrisome. I fear losing them, and I fear having to endure a similar fate. Life in later years for many of us can be like running a gantlet of intensifying blows. It’s not for the faint of heart.

Other things in life will become less serious. Material objects are losing their allure. I’m adjusting to my lumpy body, balding head and diminishing senses. My body is becoming like a comfortable pair of old shoes. Through wear and tear, I’ve worn down the rough edges and except for an occasional pebble that pops up through the sole (soul), I’ve grown accustomed to it.

My rush to judge those who for whatever reason do not live up to my standards has diminished.

I guess because I have played the role of hypocrite so many times in the past, I’m becoming more tolerant of the behavior of others (like most parents, the actions of my kids over the years have forced me to hold the parable of the prodigal son in higher esteem).

I find myself more agreeable with my wife than ever before. We have dug up most of the bones of contention and have learned to deftly tiptoe around them (unless of course one of us in a weak moment chooses to rehash the tried-and-not-so-true arguments of the past "¦ for sport).

My failure to register consciously when my wife is reciting the events of the day, and her reluctance to throw certain items away (like the treasure trove of used Christmas wrapping paper, aluminum foil and greeting cards that she has added to the "protected list" destined to remain in storage as a final act of retribution for the kids when they will be forced to dispose of their parents’ worldly possessions), are issues that we are overlooking.

They are concessions offered in return for a certain amount of marital harmony.

Professionally, I have the advantage of having sat in the catbird’s seat, watching young seniors evolve through their retirement years to the final stage of life.

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Some through good fortune, usually genetics, have celebrated independent lifestyles right up to the day of their death.

Some, because of bad fortune, usually genetics, have lingered in bad health for years, having to rely on others for their care.

Some have succumbed to the product of their self-indulgence, suffering loudly and without dignity as their bodies continued to crave for the objects of their addictions, right to the last breath.

And I’ve had the good fortune to know many who have risen above whatever afflictions that have come their way, fighting their battles and celebrating their victories with humor, grace and wisdom. This is my ideal.

I doubt that I will be able to get another 40 years out of this old shoe of a body. I hope, though, to get another 20. I hope also to make better use of it than I have in past.

This would be a validation of _ and a tribute to _ the lives of the great souls that I have crossed paths with here at the office over the last 30-plus years.

I can’t control what nature and genetics have in store for me, and I refuse to alter my appearance to disguise the process. I do have control over how I deal with this the new "old" me.

I am a senior citizen.

Although I have done little to earn this title, I will wear the title proudly.

Tom Briggs is executive director of the Delaware County Office for the Aging.