Column by Donna Jobe Cronk
Aging happens; it’s ‘the bee’s knees’
Occasionally, I’m greeted at the mailbox with a puffy envelope from my friend Cathy. What could it be? I’m eager to see what she finds worthy of postage over simply mentioning online with internet links.
These days, snail mail gets our fast attention over links.
Why? We’re drawn to the unexpected—such as a hand-addressed piece of mail. I drop everything and rip into the package. Links? Meh. Her package includes a page from a newspaper insert about a book on clutter and two news articles she wrote. These relate nicely to ongoing conversations we’re having.
Last time, she sent a clipping about a relative of hers who is a friend to a relative of ours. Life is full of unexpected connections.
I thank her for the enclosures. Not only is the content of interest, but newspaper clippings remind me of my mother. Mom often sent choice articles from our weekly Liberty Herald, or a bounty of other area, statewide, and national publications she took, along with coupons I might use.
“There’s a cartoon about clippings, you know,” Cathy said, implying that these may be signs that people who enjoy these aren’t, well, exactly young folks. True, they would go with providing internet links.
It’s old news that I’m no longer young. I learned that from the kid at a particular fast-food counter who always grants my request for a senior discount. Even if it’s a different kid, they never raise an eyebrow nor require an ID. How do they even know I qualify for that thirty-five-cents off? Guess I look honest.
It’s as big a mystery as when I told people my plans to retire from the newspaper.
“No way, already? But you’re too young,” no one said.
So, instead of feigning some measure of youth behind our wrinkles, Brian and I have decided to embrace our years. We do such renegade things as refer to “stopping by Hook’s for our meds.” While we are fully aware that CVS is the proper name, calling it Hook’s is our nod to the past. We’re the only ones who find it funny.
The other day I used the phrase “the bee’s knees” on purpose, content with the thought that I may be the only soul on the planet who has offered that description of excellence in, I don’t know, 100 years.
In the same way that we flagrantly refer to a store by its former name, and toss around outdated phrases, Brian’s specialty is ordering oddball stuff online. His latest? Three plastic, oval change purses with slits in the middle; the kind your mom gave you to hold milk money.
Brian keeps one bulging with coins inside his car console so we always have exact change for whatever we’re buying. He asked if I wanted one. I’m mulling it over.
You have to watch the bank, though. Young tellers at mine, anyway, no longer automatically provide receipts for transactions. I told one recently that I would like one for my files, adding, “Old people like paper.” We like files too. A seasoned teller working the drive-thru overheard my comment and nodded in agreement.
“I still use checks!” she said as though I’d be surprised, “and check registries!” Of course, I do too. She could tell, and offered me three blank ones for the road.
We’ve also stopped trying to learn the names of popular movie stars. The ones we think of as up and comers are older too. Why do we freeze frame actors and rock stars, then feel shocked when we see they are aging right along with the rest of us?
I don’t know how many times a week I ask Brian if someone, say Pierce Bronson, or Charles Bronson, or Piers Morgan, is still alive. Maybe it would help if we read People magazine. Brian says what we need is Dead People magazine.
And the commercials! Where do you sign up for that course the life coach teaches on the insurance commercial about how not to become your parents? We pre-qualify. When I find a top that’s perfect, I’ve been known to buy it in two colors. Brian’s been old since he was young because before I even knew him he bought favorite shirts in different prints or colors. The man knows what he likes.
And no more paper tickets for events? What will we put in scrapbooks to show that we attended the Beach Boys concert?
Yes, it’s all changing—kind of. Mom bought her clothes from a catalog. I teased her about those catalogs, heavy on 1970s stretchy fabric, and suggested that the styles were too old for her.
“No, they’re not,” she said sweetly. Mom said everything sweetly. “Younger women wear them.”
I now get my own women’s clothing catalogs. Young, pretty models are indeed sporting the clothes I like. Couldn’t be that it’s because they are paid to do so, could it? The type of stretchy fabric has evolved, but the result is similar. The fabric turns a size 16 into a 14. Magical. And … I’m OK with that.
While I’m older now, my goal is to become much older still before I’m done. I guess the moral of this story is to accept that aging happens and to embrace where you are, being grateful that you’ve made it this far. But also, to realize that it’s OK to joke around about where you are in life, to laugh at yourself, and to understand that of course things change. They always have, and they always will.
Brian and I have become fond of sharing our tips. Would you like one? Do you know what show still holds up over time? “Gunsmoke.” And their commercials sell stuff we think we need.
Wonder if that’s where Brian found the nifty change purses.
Union County native Donna Cronk is retired from the New Castle Courier-Times. She’s author of the new memoir, There’s a Clydesdale in the Attic: Reflections on Keeping and Letting Go. It’s available on amazon.com and from the author. Connect via email: newsgirl.1958@gmail.com. She will be speaking, selling, and signing copies of her new book at 1 p.m. Saturday, April 2 in the Union County Public Library. All are invited.