Decades ago, in middle school, my History teacher had us determine our age in year 2000. Fifty-two for me; then predict 10 ways we and the world would be different. My item No. 1: “That’s old; too far in the future to matter.”

Sixty-three years later, it matters. In college in the ’60s, our slogan was “don’t trust anyone over 30.” Now we’re over 70. Today, Millennials and Gen Zers inform us we don’t matter. Some things never change. We’re still rebels without a clue but possess 50 years of experiential wisdom. Perspective changes.

Economic decisions, Russian imperialism, and terrorist inhumanity are mentally draining. Traffic, housing, and educating our children consume remaining energy. Our tolerance and fuse become shorter. Consequently, it’s easy to feel abused, a victim and seek someone or something to blame. Common sense and humor are lost in the process.

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We’re all similar. Regardless of age, what do a person with diarrhea and an electric car owner have in common? Both are hoping to make it home. We’re gamers, too. Tic-tac-toe until 7 p.m.

We’ve learned to adjust to the times and use new concepts. If we take the day off and the boss angrily calls asking where we are, we respond “I’m there. You just can’t see me. I identify as transparent. My pronouns are who, where.”

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My wife asked me to email her five things I did around the house last week.

We’ve learned words matter but often confusing. There aren’t any canaries on the Canary Islands. Same thing on the Virgin Islands; no canaries either. When we say “enjoy them while they’re young,” we’re talking about our knees and hips. Not our kids. We don’t worry about Roe vs. Wade. We prefer to float.

How can a cemetery raise its funeral prices and blame it on the cost of living? Words have disappeared. “Joke.” We told them before people became offended by everything.

Word choice is significant. When asking my mother how to spell a word, she always said “Look it up in the dictionary.” But I didn’t know how to spell the word. I spent two weeks in the “L’s” looking for elephant.

Words in our relationships are important but tricky. On Valentine’s my wife asked if I knew her favorite flower. Gold Medal All Purpose wasn’t the correct answer. She asked for peace and quiet while cooking dinner. I took the battery out of the smoke alarm. When our wives are angry, we can drape a towel over their shoulders like a cape and say, “now you’re Super Angry.” Maybe they laugh, maybe we die.

Our wives want us to eat right. That means more and more roughage: lettuce, shredded wheat, alfalfa, straw. I’ve eaten so much I’m worried about passing wicker furniture. Even small chairs wouldn’t be pleasant.

Conversations with daughters aren’t any easier. When a teenager, I told mine “You need to check your attitude.” She looked at me replying “For product complaints, contact the manufacturer.” Another day I asked her to get me a phone book. She laughed, called me a dinosaur, and lent me her smartphone. Now the spider is dead, the phone broken and she’s furious. I did learn how to get her to clean her room. Generously sprinkle black rice around so it looks like mouse poop. No request necessary.

Age has privileges. We have our own dating site: carbon dating. People stand and offer us their seat on the bus but it’s a little creepy in the men’s room. We stopped listening to pro athletes’ opinions on issues or candidates. If we wanted advice from someone who chases a ball we’d ask our dog.

We have different priorities now. At my 50-year fraternity reunion, Jack expounded, “If I could have a nice No. 1, good stream, not a collection of dribbles. I’d be a happy man.” Ronnie responded, “I’d just like a great No. 2. I squeeze, grunt, push and maybe a little plop.” Mike jumped in. “That’s nothing. Every morning at 7:30 I have a great No. 1, it really flows, at least a quart.” “At 7:35 I have a great No. 2, it just glides out like lava from a volcano.” The first two asked “What are you complaining about.” “I don’t get up until 9:00.”

During one of the dinners, Eric asked everyone who used Viagra to raise their hands. Everyone but Donny responded affirmatively. Eric inquired, “Really, Donny?” “No, it would be like putting a new flagpole on a condemned building.”

Politics hasn’t changed. Democrats are the nice uncle who promises to take you to Disneyland but doesn’t want to use his own money so something always comes up and can’t follow through. Republicans are the grumpy uncle that says he’s not going to Disneyland because he can’t afford it and then goes without you.

We have let government grow without reason. Consequently, it feels the need to create problems to justify its existence. As a result, it’s backwards. We are private citizens. It should know very little about what we do within the law. They are public servants. We should know everything about them, what they do and how they spend our money. It’s our personal responsibility to reverse the status quo and restore common sense. A sense of humor will help.

Bryan Whiting feels most of our issues are best solved by personal responsibility and an understanding of non-partisan economics rather than government intervention. Comments and column suggestions to: bwpersonalresponsibility@gmail.com.