Saturday, June 8, 2013
In England, after a long day in museums and maneuvering up and down the seemingly endless stairs of the Underground, we boarded a crowded train. I held on to a pole. Suddenly, a young woman stood up and offered me her seat. I used to do the very same thing in New York City in the 70s. I did it for old people. Rather than being grateful, I gasped, "Do I look that old?". She smiled. I took the seat under protest.
This week I bought annuals for the garden. Later I noticed the clerk had given me a "seniors" discount. She hadn't asked if I was over 60, she just assumed. Isn't that a presumptuous social gaffe? Shouldn't she ask and then look stunned or at the very least surprised that I am so old?
I feel like I'm forty-five. Perhaps I should look in the mirror.