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At age 90, I finally realized that I qualify as "elderly" or, to be more positive, as "aging," or to be even more positive, as "mature." However, I don't ever want that irritatingly patronizing label of "senior citizen."

My advanced age seemed to come upon me all of a sudden, as if I hadn't transitioned into it little by little. To the contrary, it's as if I woke up one morning, looked in the mirror and asked, "Who in the world is that old jerk?"

How I look, however, is only part of facing reality and how I feel is only another part. No, the big factor is how other people treat me. This hit me rather dramatically as I was exiting a building the other day. 

I was brought up to stand back to let women go first, even to hold the door for them. So as I started for the door, a young woman stepped ahead of me, which was OK and seemed normal, then she opened and held the door for me.

Damn, what a shock.

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I am a man of a certain generation

This sort of thing is beginning to happen all the time. At the hardware store, I bought a few minor items – light bulbs and bird seed – weighing perhaps a total of 10 pounds. As I started to pick up the sack, the cashier said, "Sir, let me get someone to help you with that."

Again, damn.

And then the crowning blow. I was starting down a short flight of steps, holding the railing as I always do, and even did when I was younger, when another man who, to me, looked about my age, said, "Here, sir, would you like to take my arm?"  

Yet again, damn.

For a few weeks, I let all this depress me. I am a man of a certain generation after all: former Air Force officer and jet fighter pilot, former corporate executive, author, former speaker and consultant, and so on. I have a great résumé; of course I'm too old for anyone to hire me even if I wanted them to.

It can be depressing.

It didn't help a lot to realize that I've had a great life, that I have a wonderful wife, terrific sons and grandsons, the best in-laws anyone could have, and great friends. But as I thought about that, trying my best to count my blessings, it began to sound like an obituary.

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It has taken several weeks to realize – and perhaps I'm not yet all the way there – that the Buddhists have it right: Respect and learn from the past, but don't let yourself be held hostage by your memories; and always look to the future with optimism but live in the present, relishing and cherishing every single minute of every single day. Even the ones that my younger self would have complained about.

Finally, when all those younger folks offer to help, let go of the chagrin, realize that it makes other people feel good to help and just say, "Thank you." 

I think they, whoever they are, refer to that as aging gracefully.

James A. Autry is an author of several books and a former Meredith Corp. executive. This column first published in the Des Moines Register.