A lady told me the other day that my hair looks a lot whiter in person than it does in the accompanying picture of me.

I shrugged and thought, “It is what it is.” Anyone who is offended by the truth — particularly when it is not meant to offend — has only himself to blame.

Back in the day, my parents and I went out to celebrate their wedding anniversary after I had submitted to a haircut, trimmed the full beard I wore back then, put on a suit with a white shirt and tie and polished my shoes.

Mom told me that I looked distinguished.

“Mother,” I protested, “that’s what you say to someone who’s middle-aged.”

“Well?” she responded. She did have a way of saying things Dad and I couldn’t argue with.

A friend recently buried the last surviving family member of her parents’ generation.

“Welcome to the club,” I told her, remembering how sobering it felt, after my father’s death, to realize that I was now the senior Goldsworthy. (I am junior to an aunt and a cousin on my mom’s side.)

Her family and mine have always been close, and she told me, “We’re them, now.”

Yes, we are. In more than one way.

Several of my classmates and their spouses and I meet for dinner once a month. We’re in our early 60s, most are retired, and those of our parents who are still living are getting on in years (Dad despised the term, “elderly,” and so do I). These are some of the things we talk about, but certainly not all.

One fellow is married to a lady who’s several years younger than the rest of us. We have decided that she can drive the van to take us to the mall, the senior center or the restaurant for our monthly dinner.

As the old saying goes, “It is irrational to fear that which is inevitable.”

My friends and I have accepted the fact that getting older requires certain adjustments to our lifestyles. We still can do the many of the things we always did. We just approach them differently.

For example: Some mature folks people claim they have trouble sleeping, but that’s no problem for us. We can go right to sleep any time we feel like it, so long as we do it sitting in an easy chair or on the couch, while watching television.

“When I can’t stay awake any longer,” one man said, “I get up out of my chair and go to bed. But by the time I get to bed, I’m wide awake and can’t sleep.”

The same thing happens to me, but I look at going to bed as an opportunity to become more active than I was while sitting in my recliner. Bedtime is time I can put to good use (one way or another; I’m not that damned old, yet).

Lack of vigorous physical activity contributes to the deterioration of pre-seniors and seniors, but there are several exercises we can practice in bed.

These include tossing and turning, thrashing about, rolling over, sitting up and fluffing the pillow, getting up to tuck in the sheets after we’ve kicked them loose from the bottom of the bed, putting the blanket on when we get cold and taking it off when we get hot, putting the window up when we get hot and putting it down when we get cold, hurrying (or what passes for it) to the toilet, walking to the kitchen for a drink of ice water, going to the window to look out and see if it’s raining or snowing, and so on.

If any of this awakens your wife/husband/

whatever, you can toss and turn together or play tug-of-war with the covers. You might even get up and finish some of the chores you missed during the day.

As you age, you don’t have to sleep as much as you once did. In fact, you probably got all the sleep you needed while watching TV.

Getting older also has a few advantages. When your beard turns as white as mine, you don’t have to shave every day because it’s not as noticeable.

You feel no need to impress people or live up to their expectations, and younger folks almost expect you to offer up occasional displays of curmudgeonly behavior and to emit certain noises and sounds ... grumbling and grunting, among them.

A more versatile vocabulary becomes available to you. Use of words and phrases that once may have dismayed others will now lead younger people to think of you as “colorful,” particularly if they’ve never heard them.

Grandfather Goldsworthy had a slew of colorful expressions that I found far more entertaining than my mother or my grandmother ever did, and — like my father and Uncle Abe did — I remembered them and use them when appropriate.

My father told me that as I got older, I would discover that I have a wider age range of women to appreciate, and that’s true.

Some younger women actually take to us older men, not necessarily as romantic interests, but because they think we’re cute. And I never discount the possibility of catching one of them by surprise. It has happened.

It’s always great fun to allow someone else to underestimate you ... younger or not, it makes no difference. Gray hair facilitates this.

A friend who’s about my age told me she used to eat a lot of natural foods until she learned that most people die of natural causes.

She said she’s learned that going bra-less pulls the wrinkles out of her face, and “getting a little action” means she doesn’t need to consume extra fiber.

Here a few games she said we and our friends can play when we get older:

• Sag, You’re It!

• Hide and Go Pee

• 20 Questions Shouted Into Your Good Ear

• Musical Recliners

• Simon Says Something Incoherent; and

• Red Rover, Red Rover, the Nurse Says Bend Over

My old friend and mentor Frank Calemine lived to be almost 90, and this is what he used to tell me: Any day you wake up and can get out of bed to go to the toilet under your own power is a good day, and you should thank the Lord for it and try to do something with it.

Here’s hoping you have a good day, my friend.