Disturbing Comments from Young Whippersnappers

A good friend of mine, a fellow senior citizen, is working at a sporting goods store. The other day he was somewhat irritated when a customer assumed he needed assistance in getting an item from a shelf. I understand. Similar irritating things have happened to me.

As a matter of fact, once I was assumed to be old when I wasn't. My son, who was about seven at the time, went with me to the grocery store. As we were checking out, the cashier said, “Oh, you have a very handsome grandson.”

Playing along, I told her: “Yes, he is. Every other weekend, except when my arthritis is acting up, I spend Saturdays with him so that his folks can have a break.”

“That's so nice of you,” she replied.

“Well, you know,” I continued, “at my age, I wear out easily, so his grandmother and I take turns playing with him. While one of us plays, the other sleeps.”

After we reached the parking lot, my boy said: “You are not my grandfather.”

“You're right, son,” I replied, “but she didn't know that.”

A couple years ago, as I began lifting sacks of groceries into a cart, a young man behind me asked if I needed assistance.

“No thank you,” I told him. “I stay in great shape by lifting my wife's purse ten times every morning.” Besides, with inflation, groceries worth $100 aren't nearly as heavy as those from 30 years ago.

When my wife turned 65, as usual, I made her a birthday card. In the card, I predicted things that would happen to her now that she was officially old. Among other events, I predicted the folks working at restaurants and other stores would begin calling her such names as “Sweetie” and “Dear.”

That very night, at my wife's favorite restaurant, the waitress came to our table, smiled at my better half, and asked, “What would you like to drink, Sweetie?” (When inquiring about the main course, the waitress asked my wife, “And the vegetable?” “He'll have the same thing I'm having,” she replied.)

We both snickered. It's a wonder the waitress didn't warn us not to laugh, for certainly at our advanced ages there was the possibility of wetting our pants!

I've had more than a few younger people think I must be deaf simply because I'm a senior citizen. With that said, it's rather irritating when someone talks very slowly and very loudly to me. Believe it or not, at this point I still do not need a hearing aid (Although my wife says I suffer from selective hearing. Well, I think that's what she said; I wasn't listening!)

My own son once got me! He asked if I had voted for Lincoln. “Of course not!” I loudly and quickly protested.

“So, you're a Democrat?” the little wise-acre asked.

However, a few days ago I did get some positive feedback at the local liquor store. Before the clerk would sell me a bottle of whiskey, he insisted upon seeing proof that I was of age. I thanked him profusely and offered him a twenty-dollar tip!

I believe it was the late comedian Jack Benny who said that age is just mind over matter, for if you don't mind, it really doesn't matter.

I try to keep that in mind whenever some “young whippersnapper” indicates that I'm somehow feeble with one foot on a banana peel and the other one already in the grave. It's important to remember that in most cases those folks are simply trying to be kind and helpful, so just smile and keep chugging along at whatever pace you can muster.