I don’t try to hide my age. As of this birthday, I’m seventy-nine as the photo at the top of this blog will confirm. That’s me with the blazing white hair. If that doesn’t do it, look closer and the chicken neck leaves no doubt.
A card from the Neptune society marked the occasion as well.
As I redeemed my free birthday sub, the server asked “21?” Not wanting my hidden curmudgeon to surface I just smiled and said “Bingo.”
As one ages, the filter between the mouth and brain make peace with one another and the mouth usually wins. Those of us who were born with a defective filter learn to moderate if we want to stay married, have friends etc.
This time the brain won over the mouth as I had a choice to make. Do I piss off the person who is preparing food I am about to consume, or do I suck it up and make some equally inane response?
I know she was trying to make nice, but when she asked what I got for my birthday, I bit my tongue. (I’m betting the server never comments beyond “Happy Birthday” to a twenty-something.)
She gives her mom gift cards for her birthday. I responded the movie gift cards are a treat. She said her mom doesn’t see well, refuses to wear glasses and doesn’t go to movies. She wanted to know if I can still see okay.
Good thing the order was complete because I don’t know how much longer my patience would have held out.
Then I considered, here is a young woman, probably working a minimum wage job, buying her mom gift cards and my inner mom kicked in.
She doesn’t know the best-kept secret about aging. As the clock ticks away and the numbers ascend, the essence of who we pretty much remain the same. If you were a smart axx at twenty-one, that doesn’t change. You ’ve perfected the skill by age seventy-nine.
So yes, she had a twenty-one-year-old waiting in line, but this time brain won over the mouth.
Categories: Biased, Unbalanced and Politically Incorrect
I am a lifelong Southerner, short story author, and essayist. Home is Dallas, Texas.
My essays have appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, The Dead Mule School of Southern Writing.