WHO GAVE AARP MY ADDRESS
Yesterday, I was discussing to no one in particular the wisdom that comes from life experiences, and commenting on the lack of respect that this younger generation has toward its adult population. I was ironing my salmon-colored smock getting ready for my new career as a member of the Ladies Auxiliary, and still a bit miffed by the chiding from Eunice, Clara and Bea. Twelve years we have been playing Bridge and I have never heard of the rule of “following suit”. I was trying to remember where I left my keys and if I had taken my vitamins with the extra B12 – you know they say that B12 can improve memory retention. Anyway, I hadn’t even begun to think of slowing down when I found a magazine on my dining room table inviting me to subscribe to AARP. AARP? The American Association of Retired Persons? How old do they think I am? Who gave them my address? How long has this been sitting here? Did I turn off the iron?
I pick it up gingerly by my fingertips as if it were a dirty diaper. I can’t believe it came naked like this through the mail. Not even a brown cover for privacy. Playboy covers their magazine. Mortgage refinance flyers come in a more discrete envelope. Who knows how many people saw this thing. Assisted Living? Arthritis Relief? Scrabble Secrets? (I’ll have to read that article later) Probably every postal clerk from Mansfield to Timbuktu. Definitely my postal lady, and probably my neighbors. What’s next? A free sample of Centrum Silver? Maybe a coupon for a Geritol latte from Starbucks? Whoever these folks are that decide that we are now in “our golden years” are probably the same ones who have decided to forward my address to AARP. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that they somehow work for the government. This smells of prejudice and if I thought for one minute that I was a “senior citizen” I might be offended.
Was it my employer trying to help me along? Beautiful pictures of far away places for the “young at heart”, benefits of long-term health care, osteoporosis. Getting the most bang for your buck at your local pharmacy, because your doctor will prescribe fifty million pills when you get old. Medicare up-dates, grandparenting, legal issues, driver safety all crammed in one fun filled magazine. Is this supposed to entice me into retirement? However, the article on lawn bowling was well done.
How about Luby’s? Did they sell my name to make a little extra spending money? I only order the Senior Special because of the smaller portions and the fact everything is on one plate. It gives me more room for the roll and dessert. And so what if I have my dinner at 4:30, there were plenty of people there doing the same. We like to avoid the rush and get home in time for the late news at 6!
It might have been my dentist. He did after all recommend Efferdent for those hard to reach places between my teeth. Or maybe my gynecologist spilled the beans to the drug salesman when she ordered my Hormone Replacement Samples. Hot flashes occur in women as young as me. It happens everyday. I read it in an AARP magazine that I found on my dining room table last month. This will be the last time I tell her anything.
How about my Ophthalmologist? Could he have mistaken my reading glasses for the onset of old age? He hasn’t a clue to my age – no matter how many “focals” he has prescribed. Besides he moves that chart farther back each visit.
Maybe my good friend the dermatologist. I was concerned with some little brown spots and he said I needn’t be. Besides they have nothing to do with my liver. He gave me a pamphlet with a long name –which I could barely read with those stupid reading glasses. I doubt he saw me pick up a handful of wrinkle cream samples on my way out.
Maybe it was that little tart at the cosmetic counter. She certainly looked the type. She was way too considerate in trying to fix my sagging eye lids with an assortment of shadows packed on top of shadows, face and neck creams, and highlighting blush to add just that little rosy in my cheeks. I do have high cheekbones – they’re right under the bags under my eyes when I smile and that is exactly where I apply the blush. And I can’t help it if my crow’s feet run completely past my ears. That only comes from the small print that companies use today to save money on ink.
I think it’s a shame that as a person begins to mature and displays some of the smallest signs of aging that society begins to usher us off to the “old folks home”. A few gray hairs, less than perfectly toned triceps and an imperceptible stoop are no reasons to ready this filly (well maybe a mare) for the pasture. Sure, my hearing is going. Not because of old age, but because of all that loud rock and roll music those darn kids play today. Not a day goes by that someone doesn’t have to raise their voice because I didn’t catch every word they said. Is it my fault that the world mumbles? And another thing – my kids don’t visit me enough. I guess they’ll visit at the funeral. And why do the politicians always want to tinker with my Social Security? You know I read a very interesting article on reform in a nice magazine that I found in my dining room last week. It was right after the article on a nice assisted living neighborhood in central Texas. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to drag my oxygen tank out into the front yard and chase off a couple of hooligans that are meandering through my lawn. If they think that I am too old to get my switch and tan their hide, well they can just give my name to AARP!
Written by Judy Lee Copyright ©2016 Judy Lee