Age and Vacuous Skid Marks
Enoch Peter Gamoian
“Age is only a number” is how people under 40 flatter people over 70. I consider flattering and patronizing to be pretty much the same thing, no different from Eddie Haskell saying, “That’s an especially attractive dress you have on today, Mrs. Cleaver.”
Okay, I’m a little sensitive about my age. The first time a cashier asked me if I wanted the senior discount, I almost responded with a choice verb and pronoun. But I said yes, and it was at that exact moment I walked through the gate of middle age and straight into the Early Bird Special at Denny’s. Denny’s and Cracker Barrel have advantages: I’m younger than almost everybody else. Cracker Barrel is the better choice if you’re starving and need a nap afterwards.
True confession: A bagger offered to help me with my groceries; I told him to piss off.
A painter did some work on our house for a few days. Upon arrival, he greeted me by saying, “Good morning, young man.” I processed that from every possible angle, and it kept coming back to making a joke at my expense.
The next day, the same thing.
Boy, I really wanted to say something like, “Good morning, vacuous little skid mark?” Instead:
“Good morning, young man.”
“Good morning, old fart.”
“I’m not an old fart.”
“I’m not a young man.”
I saved the skid mark bit in case he said the same thing on day three. He finished on day two. At least he did a good job on the walls.
It’s all relative, and always in a personally favorable way. Todd Rundgren is 82 years old. Todd Rundgren often tours, performing energetic, 90-minute concerts. I’m 12 years younger. I can’t take a shower without a grab bar.
We went to a beautifully restored theater a few weeks ago for a free movie and a one-hour pipe organ concert. The organist played several medleys of old chestnuts: pub and campfire songs. He did a fine job and received an enthusiastic round of applause.
A host came onstage, thanked the organist, and welcomed us to the Free Senior Movie Series. I saw an ad, it sounded like fun, I drove twenty miles for the Early Bird Special.
The worst part? I wasn’t the youngest guy there.
The host invited the organist back onstage and told the audience he wasn’t going to reveal the organist’s age. He spoke about his career and accomplishments, and announced his age anyway, in what I think is the most tone-deaf, ingratiating way possible:
“He’s 92 years young!”
Side note: If that were me, and they knew how much I used to drink, I’d get a standing ovation. That would be impressive for a man of my vintage.