Ever since I was a little boy, I’ve wanted to be old. That’s because I grew up surrounded by grandparents, great aunts and uncles, and cousins once-removed who thought — or made me think they thought — that I was their favorite person in the world.

My parents were busy working. They lacked the time to grow a garden with me, sit in the front-porch swing and read Bible stories to me, play checkers and Parcheesi with me, or take me out to the farm to flop around in the hayloft. But those old geezers had the time and were happy to spend it with me.

I thought wrinkled faces, hunched backs, and gnarled hands were beautiful, and I wanted to be just like those people. To me, the best age to be was 75, and I hated that I’d have to wait so long to get there.

I’m nearly there now, and I haven’t changed my mind about aging. I know that growing old can be isolating and frightening, and I don’t look forward to losing my mobility and my mental faculties. If it comes to that, no doubt I’ll have a different take on aging. But so far, every year has been better than the one before.

Here are some things, assuming continued good health, that I like about being old:

* Old people have more fun. Yes, my energy level isn’t what it once was, but there are fewer things I want to do now. What I do these days (like writing a newspaper column), I do solely because I enjoy doing it.

* Old people have more freedom. When I was younger, I had parents, teachers, bosses, bishops, parishioners and others to please. I’ve now left all that behind. If I think someone is a horse’s rear end, I can say so without fear that my grade, paycheck or promotion will be affected. I don’t normally say it because I’m a nice person, but I like knowing that I can say it.

* People expect less of you when you’re old. If someone asks me a question nowadays that I don’t want to answer, I can say, “My memory isn’t so keen these days and I can’t remember anything about that,” and my response will be accepted. If there’s some big project to be chaired, my name doesn’t come to anyone’s mind. And when I do achieve something noteworthy, people say, “Well done, Dick!” whereas a few years ago, they expected it of me and said nothing. One advantage of low expectations is that they’re easy to exceed.

* Old people have nothing to prove. Nearly all my achievements and failures are behind me, most of them long forgotten by everyone but me. When I was younger, I set out to save the world, or at least the part of it I would be dealing with, which was a big mistake, a recipe for failure and disillusionment. Maybe I never had anything to prove, but I thought I did. I still don’t know what I was trying to prove. And to whom was I trying to prove it? My father? My peers? Myself? God? I don’t know that, either. But all that is past now and I don’t miss it a bit.

* I’ve grown more accepting as I’ve aged. All sorts of things that once got on my nerves now don’t. Like other people’s incompetence. Like my own incompetence. Things that don’t happen as I would like them to. People’s opinions and behaviors that differ from mine. God loves all those folks, or so he says, and I’m learning to love them, too. Perhaps they’re learning to love me.

Some people say, “Enjoy life while you’re young.” Well, sure. I hope everyone enjoys life, regardless of age. And there were some things I truly enjoyed when I was younger, like wrestling on the floor with my young sons, hitting a line drive into the gap, seeing my first book published, and being able to run a mile in six minutes. But I will gladly exchange those things for the greater pleasures of geezerhood.

Richard H. Schmidt is a retired Episcopal priest, editor and author who lives in Fairhope. He can be reached at courier@gulfcoastnewspapers.com.