\u201cAre you still?\u201d It\u2019s the start of a question that old coots like me are asked with greater frequency, as the flames on their birthday cakes resemble a towering inferno. Are you still driving? – Are you still in your house? Are you still riding your bike? Are you still? Are you still? Are you still? We can\u2019t escape it! Underlying the question is, \u201cI can\u2019t believe you\u2019re still alive!\u201d <\/p>\n
We do get the actual question every once in a while, \u201cAre you still alive? I thought you were dead.\u201d Sometimes followed by, \u201cSo glad to see you\u2019re still around.\u201d It\u2019s not so bad, if they haven\u2019t seen you for years, but if they just saw you last month, or worse, last week, you start wondering, \u201cHow bad do I really look?\u201d (At least they were glad to see me. Or, so they say.)<\/p>\n
Old coots aren\u2019t the only ones under siege from, \u201cAre you still?\u201d questions. Expectant mothers in their last trimester can attest to that. \u201cAre you still carrying that kid around?\u201d (It looks like you\u2019re having triplets.) Young adults get the, \u201cAre you still?\u201d business too. \u201cAre you still living at home?\u201d \u2013 \u201cAre you still unmarried?\u201d \u2013 \u201cAre you still unemployed?\u201d (Unspoken, is the judgment, \u201cWhen are you going to get a life?\u201d)<\/p>\n
Whenever I\u2019m asked an, \u201cAre you still?\u201d question, I go home and look in the mirror. Really look. Not one of those quick glances where the memory of a younger me obscures the reality of the old man\u2019s face reflected back from the glass. But, I get over the stark reality of truth soon enough, just like I get over the, \u201cI love your articles; are you still writing them?\u201d \u2013 \u201cSure,\u201d I respond, and then go and check the paper the first chance I get to see if I really am. The last time I looked, I was. Now comes the harder question, \u201cIs anybody reading them?\u201d<\/p>\n