"Are You Sixty Yet?" by Liz Flaherty

"Are you sixty yet?"

I wish I'd grinned at him and said, "Just." But I didn't. I gaped and then I grinned and said, "Well past it, but thank you."

I usually forget to ask for the senior discount available in a lot of places, and I think servers and cashiers are reluctant to offer it because they don't want to insult anyone by (1) referring to their age or (2) being wrong about their age. They also don't want to open themselves to the flak offered up by people who don't even want their age noticed, much less acknowledged. I don't blame anyone a bit for not stepping into that particular fray. 

There are downsides to being well past sixty, many of them having to do with worn out joints, deteriorating senses, medical appointments, and pillboxes on the counter. Forgetfulness, slowing reflexes, and invisibility create fears not unlike the ones in adolescence, when it seemed as if no one liked you, everyone was cooler than you, and your parents didn't understand squat. 

With the downsides, there are sometimes tradeoffs. Losing people is incredibly hard, but having had them is like the sun rising and setting--it's a gift every single day. Generally retirement income is less. Sometimes the kind of less that means choices between food and medication, food and new shoes, food and rent. The discount that is often offered is both appreciated and, in some cases, necessary. While being invisible to so many can be hurtful, sometimes being left alone is a blessing. Privacy offers benefits.  

I have to admit, for some of the over-sixty crowd, age is open season for being rude, for feeling entitled, for disrespecting every demographic except their own. As much as I despise hearing Hey, Boomer, I sometimes understand the reason for it. I still remember the man standing in the express line at Marsh in Logansport with his full cart of groceries. He'd stood in line all his life, he said, it was "their" turn now. Behind him, on the feet I'd been standing on for eight hours, I didn't appreciate him a bit. I still don't. 

Just speaking for myself, of course, I don't think anyone's entitled to that kind of rudeness--even ones like me, who are...well, almost 60.

I know I've talked about age a gazillion times on this blog. I can almost hear there she goes again whistling in on the cool October wind. But mostly I just wanted to tell about Ed, the guy with the smile at My Pizza My Way, who said, "Are you sixty yet?" and made my day. I wanted to thank him. 

On the 25th, stop by Gallery 15 from 6:30-8:00 PM for a book signing with Debby Myers, Kathy Oldfather, Joe DeRozier, and me. Buy a book or two, listen to the readings at 7:00, peruse the beautiful art, and visit a while. 

Have a good week. Notice somebody--and be nice to them. 

When I Was A Kid

When I was a kid, people used the n-word all the time. They also referred to women as broads and numerous worse and more degrading terms. They thought certain factions of society needed to know their places and stay in them. Quietly. 

Terms like "got herself pregnant," "he's just out for one thing," and "you know what they're like" were bandied about with no thought to them being a gender or cultural insult. 

People who didn't fit into the white, Christian mold were lumped into a category known as Other. They were welcome here in the melting pot, but only if they fit in and kept quiet. 

As a kid, I rolled my eyes because Catholics couldn't eat meat on Fridays.

As a kid, I was very uncomfortable in friends' evangelical churches. Methodists, you know, are quiet. 

As a kid, I didn't laugh at others because I'd been laughed at and I didn't like it. (I'm fairly certain this is a barefaced lie--I'm sure I did laugh at people even if I didn't like it happening to me. As I said, I was a kid.)

There were no black kids in my school. No Hispanics that I remember. At that time, there weren't even any Amish. We said the pledge of allegiance every morning, prayed before lunch. We didn't swear where people could hear us. We didn't use certain words at all. At least, a lot of us didn't. For what it's worth, this is kind of like me thinking I never laughed at people--probably a raging case of selective memory.

Even now, I've used the f-bomb fewer times in my entire life than I'll read or hear it in a single week.

But that's because I don't like the word. I don't like the word "quip," either, or "desire," so I don't use them. I flinch when I see them. If any of them crop up too often in a story, I won't finish the book--words I don't like tarnish the reading experience for me.

For me. 

Things are different now. We can blame whomever we like. I definitely have some on my list and I'm sure you do, too. We need to accept that they are different and work within the changes. Maybe we need to realize that what was good for us for so long wasn't for the greater good. 

I've worked on this column all week, and I still don't know what to do with it. Yesterday, I tossed the whole thing. Last night, I found it and brought it back. Because even now, when things are different, nothing is more important than communication. 

We need to talk to each other, don't we? Without casting stones. I can't make cruelty and untruth and outright meanness okay in my mind. I can't. I don't want to. 

So, to anyone I laughed at, for any time I didn't object when I heard the n-word used, for anyone's feelings I've hurt because I acted as if their opinions and life experiences weren't as important as mine, I am sorry. I was wrong. I hope you will forgive me.

I will still say the pledge, hand over the heart, and get a lump in my throat when the national anthem's played. I will still pray when and where I want. That's me. You do what matters to you. If you need to kneel, I'll help you up when it's over. If you don't want to pray, I'm sure you'll be still while I do. 

I'll still watch my language. I'll still flinch at words I don't like. If you think that's funny or stupid, I guess that's okay. I think it's stupid that you use those words, too, but that's not my business, is it?

My business is to be tolerant. To not judge. To be kind. To be kind. To be kind. 

Have a great week. Be nice to somebody.