As the great Satchel Page once said "age is just mind over matter, if you don't mind it don't matter." However, when one wakes up on a cold winter morning in dire need of that gingham clad little do-gooder Dorothy with her trusty oil can to get them going, it does 'matter'.

Unfortunately, the extent to which we do or do not age gracefully seems to be proportionate to the abuse to which we subject our bodies - for example the music industry, particularly those in the Blues and Jazz genres, tend to live life in the fast lane and that tends to take its toll. The rate of aging in this demographic seems to be a seven to one ratio, much like dog years. With the smoke-filled club scene, ungodly hours, and perceived "better living through chemistry," (aka drugs) one could end up looking like forty miles of unpaved road by the age of thirty.

You ever see a hardcore blues/jazz musician close up in the daylight? Granted this is a rare sighting, as they are strictly nocturnal beings, but trust me, Count Dracula has nothing on these cats. They look like death on a cracker. As writers write what they know, blues/jazz musicians tend to live what they play. While this adds depth to their music it deducts years from their lives. I'm not sure that is a great exchange.

Autopsies on some of the most famous jazz legends of our time, e.g. Charlie Parker, revealed biological aging fifteen to twenty years beyond the actual age at time of death. They were brilliant artists whose stars burned bright and all too briefly, due to their unchecked, physically abusive lifestyles.

Taking a page from their playbook and using it as a cautionary tale of what not to do would be a wise move. For those of us who find ourselves glued to the old EZ-Boy and one donut shy of a heart attack I'm not suggesting that you immediately leap from your recliners and sign up for the next Ironman competition. However I am suggesting that you get up and get moving.

Those two rotating flipper-like objects dangling from your ankles are marvels of nature. They support your entire body and when you stand on them and put one in front of the other, they will take you any place you care to go. They are called 'feet' and the concept is known as 'walking'. We would all do well to become reacquainted with both.

Granted they are mere feet, so they don't come equipped with a V-8 engine and they won't take you from zero to 60 in 4.2 seconds (not unless you're a Puma) but they can keep your derriere from resembling the backside of a city bus with regular use - not to mention being able to resurrect said buttocks from your thighs.

Too often we accept the decline in our physical condition as just part of the aging process. We give more care and attention to our vehicles than we do our own physical well being. Unlike our cars though, we can't simply be hauled up on a grease rack and have our 'torque' tweaked to enhance performance. Truth is as we age we need to be proactive in our own aging process, willing to do what it takes to stay healthy and active. Walking is a great start.

The saying "you are what you eat" comes to mind. If this is true, then a majority of us should have 'disposal' stamped on our foreheads. Contrary to popular belief, we were not given opposable thumbs for the purpose of grasping a 'double cheese burger' in one hand and a milkshake in the other. A 'joint' by definition is not the local bar where one goes to suck up beer; it is a vital part of our anatomy, which gives us movement and animation.

If in reading this you think this stuff doesn't apply to you, think again. One day when you are seriously contemplating buying a nose ring to keep track of your car keys, because you find you are more than a few brain cells shy of a complete thought, then perhaps you will equate the quality of your mental acuity with the state of your physical being. They are not mutually exclusive. Staying mentally active means we need to have a good physical foundation as a source.

To further incentivize my own healthy lifestyle all I need do is think of where the kids might stuff me if I lose the ability to live on my own. The mental picture of a nursing home (a waiting room for death) is enough to get me moving on a daily basis. If they want me they will have to come get me and I will not make it easy for them. I refuse to live my last days drooling in my porridge and being classified as living broccoli. As we say in Texas, "I plan on dying with my boots on, folks."

That means being fully stoked with gray matter and all synapses firing. While I can't possibly foresee and therefore plan for all contingencies, I can do the best with whatever is under my control.

Self-motivation is the key. There is nothing that says we must sit back and unequivocally accept the diminishing returns of the aging process. The quality of our health establishes the foundation on which all else is built and its pursuit is a lifelong endeavor.

"I choose...to live by choice, not by chance. To make changes, not excuses. To be motivated, not manipulated. To be useful, not used. To excel, not compete. I choose self-esteem, not self pity. I choose to listen to my inner voice, not the random opinions of others." - Author unknown

"Old age is not a disease - it is strength and survivorship, triumph over all kinds of vicissitudes and disappointments, trials and illnesses." Maggie Kuhn