Getting old helps you gain perspective

I am now officially old. As of Sunday, I qualify for every discount given to old people. I also qualify for Medicare. It is only a matter of time until I start chasing evil squirrels with my cane. You’ve heard of crazy cat ladies? I think I have turned into a crazy squirrel lady.

I don’t have a cane - yet, however when I got home from the grocery store on Saturday, one of my evil black squirrels was sitting prettily in the bare flowerbed munching on its favorite treat. No chocolate Valentine hearts for it. Nope, it was relishing a tulip bulb. I yelled at it and it ignored me. I ran after it and it waited until I was within arm’s reach before it sprinted for the porch, tulip bulb in hand. I finally got it to run away but it never did give up its treat. Maybe if I did have a cane it would have been more afraid. Then again, they have no fear of delusional old women.

Perhaps this is why one of my birthday presents from my daughter was a shirt that said the squirrels have plans. I have no doubt this is true. They plan to eat everything I plant.

I used to find it disconcerting to find that the articles in the AARP magazine were interesting. Not only were they interesting, they were applicable to my life. Now that I am officially old, I actually expect to enjoy articles geared towards retired people.

This is not to say that I enjoy everything about being over the hill. That saggy, doughy person who keeps appearing in the looking glass is nothing like the lithe girl with the long, silky, dark brown hair who used to be in the mirror.

All the assorted aches and pains that demand attention don’t respond to any drug on the market. As soon as one ache goes away, another takes its place. When did this become the norm?

Plus, I seem to have forgotten my husband’s name. We were in the store the other day when a guy came up and said, “Big John? What are you doing here? Remember me?”

My husband ignored him. The stranger kept on trying to engage my husband in conversation. I finally said, “His name is Tom.”

The guy persisted in calling him Big John and reminded my hubby that they had worked together at a local grocery store. My husband eventually said he had never worked there, we were from Portland. However he never did tell the man his real name. Maybe I’ve been married to Big John all these years and have been calling him “Tom” by mistake.

Living this long has other drawbacks. My comprehension seems to be slowing down. I find all the current technology to be overwhelming. There are too many things with screens. Control buttons have weird pictures in place of words. I have no idea what all the squiggles and swirls mean. It took weeks before I figured out the symbols on the stove. Like, most people, I hate feeling dumb. Not reading instruction booklets adds to the confusion.

On the other hand, qualifying for old people benefits means I am grateful for every day my name is not in the obituary column. It means I get to be a friend as well as a mother to my daughter. I have lived long enough to know the joys of grandchildren.

Perhaps the best part of growing older is the sense of perspective obtained. Youth so often feels that so many things are a matter of life or death. Age knows that this, too, shall pass. Age knows that as long as we are alive there is happiness to be found, discounts to be had and squirrels to thin the tulips.