It has become fashionable to denigrate old people, or at least old politicians.

Before Sen. Dianne Feinstein, a Democrat, died last fall at age 90, her apparent dementia had become a punchline for comedians and good-government types. The same was true of Republican Sen. Mitch McConnell after he froze mid-sentence a few times last year while giving interviews.

Of course, the real focus of such discussions are Joe Biden, age 81, and Donald Trump, age 77. If elected president in November, Biden will be 82 when he begins a second term and 86 by the end of that term; Trump will be 78, if he enters the Oval Office again, and 82 at the end of a four-year term.

That is why 52-year-old Republican Nikki Haley asks audiences: “Are we really going to say that we’re OK with having our options be two 80-year-olds that run for president?”

Biden is already the oldest U.S. president ever. Ronald Reagan was the previous record holder; he was 78 when he left office in 1989 with what some believe were early signs of Alzheimer’s disease, which was diagnosed in 1994 and took his life in 2004.

But no matter how many times, and how earnestly, Haley and others ask the age question, the answer, so far, seems to be yes, although it is not an answer that gives comfort.

We just saw a round of future Hall of Fame football coaches retire well ahead of their 80th birthdays.

In recent weeks, Nick Saban, 72, stepped down from coaching at Alabama after 16 years; Pete Carroll, also 72, agreed to retire from the Seattle Seahawks; and Bill Belichick, 71, was canned by the New England Patriots. Two years ago, we saw legendary Duke basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski hang up his whistle at age 75.

In real life, most coaches wind up doing something completely different long before they get close to 70. An Iowa exception is Iowa Hawkeyes football coach Kirk Ferentz, who at 68 is now the second-oldest active NCAA football coach, behind North Carolina’s Mack Brown at 72.

Coaching football or basketball at the college level has to be stressful in a changing world of portal transfers and NIL (name, image and likeness) payments to college athletes.

But even so, it has to be a cakewalk compared with the stresses of being the leader of the free world.

Many professions have clearly marked exit doors. 

Airline pilots have to retire at age 65, and corporate governance rules at many large businesses set mandatory retirement ages for chief executives, typically at 65.

Medicine and the law do not have institutionalized retirement ages but most hospitals and law firms have guidelines that encourage doctors and lawyers to at least step back, if not fully retire, sometime around 70. 

Most academic institutions have provisions for emeritus professors that allow them to remain active in their chosen fields while avoiding the stress of critical daily decision-making. 

Even the Catholic Church, one of the most conservative institutions in history, recognized the age issue long before it admitted to other problems. As far back as the 1970s, bishops have been required to retire by age 75, and cardinals older than 80 can no longer vote for a new pope.

An article by Fintan O’Toole titled “Eldest Statesmen” in the Jan. 18 issue of the New York Review of Books noted that the United States is an outlier among nations when it comes to retirement by political leaders.

The average age for members of parliaments in Europe, Australia and Canada is many years younger than in the United States, O’Toole noted, adding that even the Chinese Communist Party has an unwritten rule that targets retirement at age 68.

O’Toole wrote that 79% of U.S. citizens “favor maximum age limits for elected federal officials,” which would require a constitutional amendment.

All well and good, but we all know that won’t happen, at least not in my lifetime.

For the record, I’ll be 77 when I vote in November.