Old, Cranky, White Guy Tells All

I reached an interesting new milestone this week. For the first time in my life I was referred to as an "old, cranky, white man". Please indulge me while I take a closer look at this accusation. First: Old. Debatable. When 60 is the new 40 that puts my current age of 55 at about the new 37. I have kids in grammar school. I have a mountain bike. On the other hand, my feet hurt me almost all the time. I get a lot of mail from AARP. I like movies about WWII. I would say the allegation of my being old is too close to call. Now let's look at cranky. When I'm loading the boys in the car every morning, certainly. Cleaning the crawl space under the mudroom? That's a yes. Whenever I find myself dealing with the person who accused me of being old and cranky -- always. Fair enough. The individual would have little evidence of my naturally sunny disposition. And, white man. Busted. Can't wiggle out of that one at all. Not only white, but 3/8 Irish white. Irish and German and Belgian and a dollop of Gallic blood to give me the perpetually misspelled last name I carry.

So let's review -- Old - maybe. Cranky - sometimes. White man - indisputable. I guess it's more true than it isn't. Rats. I was hoping to talk my way out of this.