Stressed or Distinguished

As Sarah and I drove home from church a week ago, my wife looked in the visor mirror on her side of the car and said rather matter-of-factly "Hmm... more white hairs." We the proceeded to postulate how much of that was stress induced and how much is par for the course - you know, the random white hairs that pop up as people grow older. I seem to remember Sarah having a couple of these before, which I would dutifully hunt for and pluck out. Interestingly, I don't think I have any white hairs, which probably is a testament to Sarah being a wonderful wife (which she is) and me being an awful stress-inducing husband (which I probably am, but I'm trying to get better, honest).

It's not just my wife on whom I've seen some graying. There some number of college buddies and other friends that I've noticed either in passing or in photos who have racked up noticeably more gray hair. Even President Obama made news recently when it became evident that our Commander in Chief's noggin was getting really gray really fast. That one boggles the mind - two wars, stagnant health reform and the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression - what's to be worried about?

But for us, gray and white hair is just another rite of passage, it seems, for me and my generation - a harbinger of our increasing role in this world and a growing distance of our childhood with little real responsibilities. Two Saturdays ago as I drove to a friend's house on the Turnpike, I rolled my eyes at a couple of kids in the back of the school bus who kept incessantly waving from the back door window trying to get our attention - but then softened when I realized that me and my doofus friends used to do the same thing. Flash forward 15 to 20 years later, a whole bunch of us are now parents which children, mortgages, jobs and real responsibilities... and the random graying hairs.