Is my glass half empty or half full? Sometimes the glass is just too blamed big…or like in my case it has a slow leak.
Thinking about that leak, I am organizing a protest for the flagrant insults I see spreading around the country with regard to senior citizen status. First of all, I don’t like being called a senior. I was a senior a half century ago at West Point High School and there’s no relationship whatsoever.
Hands-down my current state is so much more soul satisfying, and at times it can be downright hilarious. You try dancing in front of the mirror to the pop tune “All About that Bass” sometime and see if you don’t think it’s hilarious. And in case you’re not in the know, that “bass” isn’t a fish, but decorum prevents me from going into detail. I’ll explain when I see you in the Kroger store which is where I have most of my meaningful conversations these days.
I’ve been trying to come up with a new term to pigeon hole those of us who have reached the half century mark and beyond. I think the “New Centurions” maybe? That sounds courageous, masterful and highly evolved. To be over 50 in this day and age, you must be all those things or get lost in this youth-obsessed culture. “The New Centurions” conjures up visions of a silver haired siren karate chopping, and then collaring the punk who tried to steal her purse. He won’t mess with her again.
Furthermore I choose to think of my gang as “seasoned adults in their prime” rather than dim witted dinosaurs who can’t find their car in the parking lot. Well, true, I can rarely find my car on the first try but people half my age have that problem because all vehicles look alike these days in this white SUV obsessed country. I’m shopping for an orange Ferrari to solve that problem. (Of course I’d never spend that much money on a car but I’m enjoying the test drives immensely.)
It may be hard for some to imagine, but every older adult was at one time young, and full of energy, passion, ambition, and dreams. We still have goals way beyond completing a small craft project, walking to the mailbox, finishing our prune juice and watching “Wheel of Fortune” while eating dinner on a TV tray. I’m tired of late night comedians joking about us and our memory loss – did you ever consider we forget some things because we want to? And besides, our brains are so stuffed with facts – both significant and insignificant – that we’re obligated to let something go every now and then or our heads would explode.
And enough with the “elder speak” – shouting at us like we can’t hear, using a sing-song voice and using the pronoun “we” instead of “you.” “Are we ready for our lunch now, dearie?” Hell, no, honey – I’m still practicing my handstands.
Enough already with this pervading and condescending attitude toward the New Centurions. Every other segment of society is looking for respect so why not extend it to the brave folks advancing on the enemy line of advancing age and finding ways to successfully hold it at bay? Give us a little credit, Johnny and Judy come lately. No matter how smart you think you are, you will one day be like us – if you’re lucky. I wouldn’t change places with you if I could.