Eventually we all experience it, a slap-in-the face reminder about getting older. My first was 10 years ago when my car was stuck in the snow – nothing too deep, and I was rocking out of it. But a car pulled up abruptly and a young man jumped out: “sit tight sir, I’ll push you out!” Sir? And he did, easily. It was just the kind of thing I used to do back in my teens and twenties. His wave goodbye clearly said, ‘Happy to help sir (old man)!’ I didn’t need help, but he thought I did.
Fast forward to last week, standing in line with my better half, Sherry, to see Murder on the Orient Express. “Two please,” I said. “Yes, sir. Two senior tickets?” I hesitated for a second, then replied, “Yes,” seeing a financial windfall. But as he punched out the tickets, my wife and I exchanged scrutinizing glances, analyzing each other for reasons that we could designated as Seniors. Both in our mid-50’s, neither of us had had this experience before. Do you ask a stranger who appears pregnant, “when are you due?” It’s fraught with danger.
This covered us with a blanket of self-assessment over the evening. I started thinking about family history and ancestors, plenty of seniors there. I thought about receiving the AARP Magazine automatically when I turned 50. And I wondered, does the $4.00 savings help me get over it?