It happened too soon

I wondered when it would happen, the realization that I am, indeed, a senior citizen. In a weird way I don’t feel like I’m a senior. In fact, if I don’t actually spend too much time looking in a mirror, I can ignore the physical aspects of aging altogether. In my mind I’m just me. I am, however, worried about “Uncle Julian” being the Minister of State for Seniors – I can see a household gun and granny registry on the horizon. But, like a lot of things, that’s just another story.

As I was heading off to an appointment last week, I did think a bit about being a senior citizen and wondered how the H E double-strength denture paste I managed to move from the Summer of ‘67 to the autumn of my life so quickly. How did that happen? Honestly, I don’t know if I should stay in fast lane or buy a sedan, then cruise and weave onto the exit ramp. I don’t think I’m ready for a seniors’ home, although if I were, I wouldn’t be the best judge of that, would I? Oh, ya, I was heading off to an appointment and looked over to see what time it was and I wondered if someone like my grandmother would have understood a car clock without hands. A digital readout makes “telling time” a lot easier, but I can just hear my Grandma having something to say about making that learning curve too easy—although she wouldn’t have said “learning curve.” She’d still believe a kid needs to learn how to tell time the old fashioned way, on a clock with a dial and twelve numbers and two hands, along with a need to know how to tie their shoes. Actually, having a radio in the car would have been something for my grandmother. Radios in the car certainly weren’t standard equipment in her day. Heck my grandparents didn’t even own a car and I’m pretty sure none of my grandparents were licensed to drive a vehicle. Imagine that. If a car trip were in the offing, my Dad did the chauffeuring and my Dad didn’t own a car with a radio or a clock until 1958. Oh, the arguments over which station had the best signal. But, I digress. I wonder what it will be that makes me stop moving forward. You know, just buy a pair of stretch pants, team it up with a pale pink t-shirt with kittens on it and call it a day. I look around my life and I see lots of indications that I’m only senior by the numbers. I’ve tried to keep up with all things “tech” and have reluctantly put many of my old technological toys to rest including my beloved Sony Walkman and the desktop computer that had less RAM than the USB key I carry in my camera bag. Grandma wouldn’t have understood the Walkman nor the computer. She sure as shootin’ wouldn’t understand a digital camera, nor a telephone without a cord and rotary dial. It all would have made her pour herself a wee dram into her tea.

If you know me, and many of you do, I’ve bitched and whined more about technology in the last three years than I did in the previous 43. That alone could be a sign of my advanced years. Not too many years ago I couldn’t see a need for a laptop until I showed up for an editing meeting and was the only person making corrections on paper documents, effectively doing the edits twice—once on paper and once at home on the desktop computer. It’s not like I wasn’t using a computer years ago—it’s just that the “disks” were 12 inches in diameter and the programming languages I was familiar with were COBol and ForTran. I clearly remember the day we faxed a drawing to the office in the States—it took 20 minutes to make a connection and at least that long to send the drawing after dozens of tries—and thinking I could have driven the drawing to Philly faster.

Maybe I don’t have anything to worry about as regards being a senior citizen. The discounts are pretty good, but I prefer to be asked if I’m a senior instead of finding out the clerk made an assumption. And I certainly haven’t had an urge to cut and paste my wardrobe. Heck, I’ve been watching the papers for deals on a bigger monitor to go with my super, small laptop (I know, reading glasses could be cheaper) and I did talk to a nice young person about a new cellphone and was urged to switch to a smartphone with a full keyboard that’ll make tweeting and texting easier. Huh? I think that I just figured out where I’m going to draw that line.