Take Your Good Intentions and Shove Them

 I've been cleaning out files. At least attempting to. But it's difficult to avoid getting caught up in reading some of the stuff I've written over the years. Make that "over the decades." I came across this one, written in 2010. I share it now with you. Remember, I'm 12 years older now, but the sentiment still holds. Probably  more emphatically.

....GOOD INTENTIONS....

I've reached that time of my life when I'm a little sensitive about my age. Granted, I can't do anything about how old I am, but I can do something about how I'm treated by young people. So, if you're under fifty - that's young - and you're a waiter or salesperson or someone I meet, here's what you should know.   When you look at me, I know what's going through your mind. You're thinking, "You're old." You're thinking, "I've gotta wait on this old fart and make him feel good."

Well, I can't help what you're thinking, but I can tell you what not to say or do. First of all, when I'm waiting to be helped at a store, don't say "How can I help you, young man?" That just reeks of bs. It tells me you see an old man standing in front of you. We both know you mean, "How can I help you, you confused old fool?" And don't look down at my fly to see if it's zipped up. I'm not at that stage yet, when I walk around with the breeze blowing between my legs.

Another thing: If I'm standing on a bus or the subway, and you're sitting, don't offer me your seat. If I was able to walk to the bus stop or the station and could step up to get on, I'm sure able to stand here for a few stops. And if you're staring at my fly as you sit there, and it's open, I'm not forgetful. I'm just airing it out. My choice.

Let's talk about food. If you're waiting on me at Denny's or IHOP, just hand me the menu, tell me about your specials, then leave me alone while I decide. Don't turn the menu over and point out the Senior Specials. That just makes me want to puke. When I order two eggs over easy, a side of bacon, a short stack of pancakes, and coffee, resist the urge to tell me I can order the Senior Slam or the Golden Platter for only $4.99 and I get hashed browns with it. Between you and me,, pal, I hate your greasy hashed browns. Even a 20-year-old stud or beauty like yourself would be hard pressed to digest that mess.   

And what I said about Senior Special goes double for the Early Bird Special. When I eat at 4:30, I call that lunch.

Another thing. When I'm in the cereal aisle at the supermarket, trying to decide between Cheerios and bite-sized Shredded Wheat, don't point out that high fiber crap to me. I know fiber is good for you. Unless you're Rip Van Winkle, there's no way anyone can escape the benefits of fiber. If I have trouble with my bowels, I'll go to Steak 'n Shake for a bowl of chili and a chocolate shake. That takes care of my problem and I can still enjoy my Cheerios and Shredded Wheat.

When I need a new pair of pants - not jeans, but big-boy pants - I'll probably go to Macy's or Target and look for something pretty sharp. Please, I beg of you, don't ever suggest I try on a pair of Sansabelt pants. Who do I look like, Ed McMahon? The only reason he wears Sansabelt is because he gets paid to.

Here's what you need to understand. There's a difference between being old and getting older. As soon as a little baby is born, he or she is getting older. You're getting older even as you sit there. You'd better hope you keep getting older for as long as you can, because when you stop getting older, it's all over. I don't think of myself as being old. I'm just getting older. A little slower perhaps, a little hard of hearing, takes longer to get up from sitting on the floor. But am I an old man? No Way!

One last thought: If you're a doctor and I'm in intensive care, and the priest is waiting to give me final rites - and I realize just how serious it is because I'm not even Catholic - don't come into my room in your white coat and stethoscope and gung-ho smile and say, "We'll have you up and running in no time." I'm not a Lexus. I'm a Chevy with a lot of miles, and I never ran well to begin with.

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