Last night’s sunset.
We’re due for some snow today – probably about an inch – and a bit more tomorrow. Over the weekend, the temps are going to be frigid. Oh boy.
A couple of stories about age and the perception of age:
I had been rereading some old paperbacks that I read in the 70s. Comfort reads. In one of them, the characters kept talking about “Great Aunt Annie.” The descriptions painted a portrait of a very old woman who was eccentric and a bit batty. Almost Dickensian. Imagine my shock when the author said she was 72.
72! My age! I guess back in the 70s, which I remember well, 72 was considered ‘doddering?’ I don’t remember thinking that, but it does point out how concepts of aging have changed. I told this story to Don and he burst out laughing. Now, we aren’t as spry as we used to be, but we’re pretty darned vital and we certainly don’t think of ourselves as fragile or, to be honest, old.
Although, I am a great aunt.
And in that same vein, Don got a call from CVS the other day. He gets his prescriptions through CVS/Caremark and they’re sent through the mail. He chatted with a very polite young woman and I heard him say, “No, I’m fine, but thank you.” When I asked him about it, he said “They wanted to know if I needed someone to come to the house to check my vitals.”
Cue more laughter.
I’ve heard this from our medical insurer as well.
I feel an inner “Age is just a number!” ready to burst forth. Of course I realize that many people do need these services and I’m glad they’re available, but I do feel like some entity is hovering in the background, absolutely sure that we must be feeling a certain way because of a particular number.
Last night, we watched Miracle on 34th Street. Tonight? Meet Me in St. Louis.
Stay safe.
Happy Friday.
