Ever closer to my sixty-sixth birthday, I am becoming aware of my new station in life: I am joining the throngs of the so-called young old. If I am not mistaken, I will be in this category of the aged until seventy-five. Then I will become simply old for a decade. And I will switch to the hordes of the old old at the age of eighty-five. That will be that, I suppose. Again, I am not sure exactly how this categorization works, and I do not really care, but it is likely to be changing as time goes by. My generation is sure to break all the records of ageing, too. It may well be that all the above boundaries will be shifting upwards. The way things appear to be going, the ripe age of one-hundred could turn into the last boundary for the old old. For better or worse, round numbers are the rage in this civilization of ours. In terms of human age, though, there can be no number rounder than a century. Go babyboomers, go!