Dick Jones revels in the glories of rage in his "late middle age." Although I am behind him by about a score, I believe I do know what he means, but I am still cursed with painful longings for an imaginary youth.

Just the other day, when I entered the gym after a three-year hiatus, my reflection in the ubiquitous mirrors wasn't exactly the prettiest twenty-something there. That was extremely disconcerting, and being about a score older than the twenty-somethings was no consolation.

As for rage, those of us who are constitutionally middle-aged, regardless of our generational affiliation, mistook it for youthful rebellion when they told us we were young. Having been there without really being there, we're only marginally wiser, and are now given to thoughtless envy of all "dudes" young and bright and beautiful and accomplished and well-adjusted.

So nice to know about the joys of rage awaiting me down the road!

6:56:50 AM