We all react to age in different ways.
I take the denial route. Each morning in the mirror I see a 22-year old Steve. The same Steve who seems to operate the attitude controls in the cockpit of my head.
That attitude makes some of my other observations a bit disconcerting. Like when I balance myself while climbing down from chairs. Or when I try to run and find my body about a half block behind my mind.
But those variegations in my life are easily reconciled. I usually just ignore that they exist.
Until yesterday morning. I decided to take the shuttle bus from Salem to Bend to visit my mother and brother. When I got to the front of the line to buy my ticket, I said, “One adult. One way. Bend.” The clerk looked me straight in the face and asked: “Senior?”
Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the question. After all, by some standards, I am a senior. AARP has tried to include me in joining them at the trough of government benefits for well over a decade. Even though I do not yet qualify for the more traditional 65+ category. At least, for a few years.
Even so, it is a bit jarring to hear the first time. Doubly so because I have long been agnostic about senior discounts. The reasons are not important. Suffice it to say I do not use them.
This time, I did, though. To have declined the offer would have seemed a bit mean spirited on my part. After all, the clerk had no trouble seeing that my brain may not have developed past 22, but the rest of me has been showing the mileage for years.
Who knows? When it is time for me to head back over the Cascades, I may sidle up to the ticket counter, identify myself as a senior, and nap all the way back to Salem.
After all, nothing says senior like a good nap.
17 comments:
heck, i got asked that question when i was 48, so don't feel too bad. it was by a customer at nordstrom who saw me admiring some shoes that were very expensive. she was trying to get me a discount, that's why she asked. very nice of her except she sure burst my bubble. i did not look like a senior at 48.
Last night we went to the 2012 Puerto Music Fest at the Split Coconut. As I looked over the crowd I was amazed that it was nearly all foreigners and nearly all at social security recipient stages of their lives - yikes!
For a small tourist community at the bottom of Mexico the music was pretty darn good if my professional ears have not completely left the building.
A good time was had by all. I remain in awe over the demographic that yes I am a part of.
Perhaps she said, "Señor"
That possibility flashed through my mind. But only momentarily.
And I think most of us have never made it past 22 in our heads.
She was probably young, though. The clerk at the bus station looked as if he was well into his 60s himself.
I am glad that I am not the only one that the mind has continued to deny to keep up with the body's time clock. Unfortunately the 22 year old has graduated to about 32, especially during the first 30 minutes of each day.
Amazing how fast this time has caught up with us, it wasn't that long again that the Beatles came to town......
Sheesh okay I'm getting senior also.. I JUST read the title of this post and I feel really señor senile, DOH.
I love this "essay." It is both enlightening and hilarious in its own way.
I love it when someone addresses me as "young lady." Lady, yes; young, not so much. Nita
We are all in the same boat Steve but my problem is when I start sweet talking the 22 year old girls and they look at me in horror.
BTW where has the lovely Babs been, your lovely SMA landlady?
I think in my head that I am still 24, still thin and have no gray hairs. Sometimes I don't even recognize the person in the mirror. I did a drawing exercise the other day where you are supposed to do a self portrait. I really looked at myself and was shocked. Husband and my other friends say that I over did the furrows and creases but honestly looking at the mirror and starting that is all I saw.
That is why I believe in Aliens, they came down last night and stole my body and left me this overweight, frumpy one in it's place!
Though I would never turn down any discount offered, even a senior one.
regards,
Theresa
I hope we all soon hear more from Babs.
The last person who called me young man had just finished relating a story about the Normandy invasion.
I suspect time is beginning to lap me.
I have a similar theory about the laundress. She shrinks my clothes.
I'll never forget the first time I overheard someone refer to me as "the older lady". I was 41. Granted, I had at least 10 years on all the other girls at the salon, but still... The horror...lol.
I had a criminal client (who mus have been 20 or so at the time) refer to me as being an "old guy." I was 30 at the time. I guess it is all a matter of perspective.
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