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I'm old, and that's OK with me.

Oh, sure, many people tell me, "You're not old!"

Well, yes, I am.

If we have young adult, middle-aged and old as the categories, I'm old. If I were classified as middle-aged, I'd need to live to 126. That won't happen. I'm old.

"But 63 is the new (40, 50, something-younger number)," they say.

Yes, I agree that at 63 years, I do feel and act a lot younger than my father did at this age. But there's no denying that my body (mainly) tells me that I am no longer young. But, as I said, that's OK. I'll take a nap.

What prompts this essay is that I had my first experience with ageism recently. I had gone to the local, but large, grocery store. When I took my purchases to the young, male clerk and paid with a credit card, he handed over the slip and said: "Just sign right here, young man."

I chuckled at the "young man," signed it and started walking out, only to have it hit me. Young man? Young man? The clerk was maybe 19, so he obviously doesn't consider me young. I don't consider me young. As I drove home, I wondered why he had said that. Did he think I'm so old and doddering that I'd somehow stupidly consider it a genuine compliment? How could it be a compliment?

I became increasingly miffed as I drove. I wanted to return and ask him if the store pays him to remark sarcastically on the physical attributes of its customers. Does he say, "Sign right here, thin woman" to a heavy person, or "Sign right here, Harry" to a bald guy?

I don't think so.

The fear, of course, is that as I age even more, this kind of patronizing attitude will happen more often. It's great that most movie theatres offer a senior discount. I'll happily pay less, even though I take up an entire seat.

But don't call me "young man" when you sell the ticket. Don't run out of the ticket booth to hold open the door for me. I can manage.

From my 50s onward, I used to complain that a little bit more wisdom is the only advantage to aging. Everything else is a drawback. You lose coordination and strength. You are less likely to jump into new situations and technologies. You learn that your skin, bones and even muscles don't heal as quickly if they get injured. So, you become safer, you take fewer risks.

But now that I'm definitely old, I've learned that there are a few other advantages. Yes, the oldies' discounts are great. A younger friend and I played golf yesterday, and it cost me $17 to his $27.

But there's more. I've learned that many of the clichés, the stereotypes, about the elderly not only are true, but also they can work to your advantage.

For instance, now I get to look at things in the neighborhood -- such as the newspaper being delivered -- at first light. After all, at my age you're going to the bathroom then, so take a moment and look through the windows.

Here's another one: People expect you to eat dinner early when you're old. Turns out that's a very good thing. You get to avoid crowds, and you get to eat early! I always like to eat, so early is good.

Also at my age, you know that other oldies are going to quote Katherine Hepburn's dictum that growing old is not for sissies. You know they're going to say it, so you can brace yourself and give a little smile, as if it's a new thought.

They say old people like to go get the mail, that it's the high point of their day. I wouldn't say that, but you know what? It's not a bad little diversion. It really is something to look forward to.

Sometimes my nephew Steve asks me if the joke I e-mailed him was another ROD mailing. He insists that Retired Old Dudes don't have anything better to do than to forward stale jokes to each other and to all family members. The question carries its own criticism, of course. It means his life is too busy and full to be bothered with unnecessary little divertissements such as what I just sent.

That's OK. I understand. Truth is, I know that about 3 p.m., he'd really rather be taking a nap.

Mike Clark writes a language column for the News & Record. Contact him at writermike@bellsouth.net.