I have but one resolution to begin the New Year.

Itís so simple, my resolution might actually start a revolution.

In 2014, my goal is to get younger.

Think about it. We spend the first part of our life in a hurry to get older ó so much so that life in our society has become a mathematical equation with our age determining when we are allowed to reach specific milestones.

Start first grade = 6

Get a driverís license = 16

Vote in an election = 18

Buy an alcoholic beverage = 21

Iíve reached that stage in my life where thereís only one age-based goal left to achieve and thatís nearly two decades away when ó based on current requirements ó I will qualify for Social Security.

So instead of getting older while Iím waiting for the future to get here, Iíve decided that Iím going to get younger instead.

I miss being young.

I liked waking up in the morning and not having my bones and muscles ache. And Iím not so old that I canít remember what it was like to literally ďjumpĒ out of bed, instead of having to think about it for a minute or so while my body springs to life slower than a 1992 Chevy Cavalier on a cold winterís morning.

I also remember going to the grocery store and tossing products into the cart without having to read the label for fiber content ó and then read all the competitive products before selecting the one with the highest number.

Iím not saying anyone should ever take their health for granted. But I miss the days when the only time I saw a doctor was in the ER because of a sports-related injury. I miss that feeling of invulnerability that comes from being young and naive. I remember how nice it was to be able to plan your calendar without having to schedule everything around doctorís appointments. Life was so much better before I reached ďthe ageĒ of regularly scheduled prostate exams. Let me tell you, if someone would have told me back then what was just beyond the next age goal, I wouldnít have been in such a hurry to get older.

And you have to wonder what kind of twisted mind come up with that test.

With the hourly advancements weíre making in technology ó especially with cell phones and computers which are obsolete the minute you take them out of the box ó you would think that medical science could come up with one of those Star Trek medical scanning thingies that a doctor could just wave over your body and tell you whatís wrong.

Iím sure that Captain Kirk never had to suffer the indignity of bending over a table and Dr. McCoy telling him that he might experience ďa little pressure.Ē

And before you say that was a fictional television show set in the first, I need to point out that todayís computers have far surpassed the ones Gene Roddenberry depicted in his 1960s science fiction series.

All Iím saying is there has to be a better way.

Until then, Iíve decided that Iím going to grow younger.

Thatís my New Yearís resolution.

And Iím going to do it without pills. Which is surprising because the medical profession seems to have an endless supply of pills for everything else that ails us. You would have thought the pharmaceutical industry would have come up with that pill, but I guess it would have hurt their business because it would have made all their other pills useless.

But I digress.

Using nothing more than the power of my mind and the spirit within me, Iíve convinced my body that it needs to start aging backwards instead of forward.

I can already feel it starting to work.

Iím noticing a little more muscle tone in my arms.

I feel more alert and vibrant ó but that might be from the extra large cappuccino I just drank.

My blood is also surging with that fearless machismo that I had back in my 20s because I want to go outside and confront the lawn crew with their stupid freakiní leaf blowers that have been going at it for the past half hour blasting what sounds like three jet engines outside my office window as Iím trying to write this column.

Then I remembered that Iím the boss, a privilege and responsibility I have earned in large part because of my age and the experience it has afforded me.

So instead of running outside with my chest puffed up like a 20-year-old spoiling for a fight, I just walked outside and told the crew they had two choices. One, finish their work without the stupid freakiní leaf blowers; or two, come back when I was wasnít working.

As I walked back into my office and sat down in front of the computer, I looked out the window and watched as the lawn crew went to their truck, pulled out a couple of rakes and finished their work without having to make so much noise they could raise the dead.

It got me to thinking.

Perhaps I was a little hasty on my New Yearís resolution to revolutionize aging.

While I still want the medical industry to invent one of those Star Trek medical scanner thingies, I have to admit, getting older has its perks.