I was placing my groceries on the belt at Harris Teeter: toilet paper, red wine, salad greens… “Did you find everything you needed?”, asked the clerk. “Yes”, I answered reflexively—although obviously everything I needed was not to be found in the aisles of Harris Teeter.
“Paper
or plastic?” was his next question. “Paper”, I say, as usual. It’s much easier to
recycle. Then, he hit me with a completely
unexpected question: “Are you eligible for our senior discount”? “No”, I
answered feeling a bit insulted. W-h-a-t???? I was barely into my fifties. Do I look like
an old lady??? I guess anyone over 50 looks old to these young people. And yet, I was unsettled by his question. When I got home I posted on Facebook: “Today—a milestone—the grocery clerk at
Harris Teeter asked me if I qualified for their senior discount!! Do I really
look that old???” My friends were quick
to reassure me. “They asked you that
because it’s Thursday. Thursday is the
senior discount day”. Aha! So, if it’s Thursday, you must be a
senior. Not just a random “you look
old—want a discount?”
But when DOES
one actually cross the line and become a senior citizen? My son kept telling me after I turned 50 that
I wasn’t “middle aged” anymore, because I was well past the middle of my
life. Now you’re an “old person”, he
teased.
When I
turned 13, I had a Bat Mitzvah. When I finished high school I had a graduation. When I got married, I had a wedding. When I became a mom, I went through
childbirth. All of these life phases
had rites of passage-- the crossing of a threshold, then entry into a new phase
of life. Not so, with becoming a senior
citizen.
The first
time I ACTUALLY qualified for a senior discount I was 55. I learned, to my surprise, that I could get a
discounted membership to the Triangle Sportsplex and decided to take
advantage. To do that, I had to walk
into the Senior Center, register and take a fitness test. It felt odd to be in there. The Senior Center is for the elderly, after
all. The woman at the desk mentioned
something called a “Silver Sneakers” class that was free. “Medicare covers it”,
she explained. What? No, not me! I’m just passing through, jumping
through hoops to get my discount. I
really just want to use the swimming pool!
Around this
same time, I went to a movie at the Chelsea Theater. “One senior”, said my friend, as he
approached the ticket window. I happened
to know he was only 58. You have to be
60 to qualify as a senior for the Chelsea.
His actions reminded me of the time when my best friend bought a child’s
ticket at the theater, even though she technically was supposed to pay the
adult price. “But Kim, you’re 12. You’re an adult!” I blurted in front of the clerk. Personally, I was proud to say the words “one
adult” when I plunked down my money. She
was mad at me afterwards. So I knew
better than to open my mouth. I waited until
Paul and I were out of earshot of the desk.
“They never check”, he assured me.
Apparently, he was fine with identifying as a senior, whether he
actually was one or not.
If you are old enough to “pass” as a senior
does that make you one? Or maybe you start to become a senior
at age 50 when you get the infamous letter from AARP? Is it at 55 when you are eligible for that
Sportsplex discount and can even withdraw money from your IRA without penalty? Or is it 60 when you qualify for reduced
rates at the Chelsea or at Harris Teeter on Thursdays? Is it 62 when you can first access Social
Security? Is it when your hair turns
gray? When you become a
grandparent? Is it when you retire? When you first start having chronic aches and
pains? Is it the first time you walk out into a parking lot and realize you
have no earthly idea where you left your car? I have
currently achieved some—but not all of these milestones.
Last spring,
I celebrated my “Beatles” birthday.
“Will you still need me, will you still feed me—when I’m 64?” I must have been around 10 years old when I
first heard those lyrics--about a time so far in the future that it could never
happen to me! It certainly was odd, and kind
of fun to achieve this particular milestone—even though the lyrics really don’t
really fit me even now. Although I confess, I’m losing some of my
hair, there is no one to need me or feed me or vice versa. “Every summer we could rent a cottage in the
Isle of Wight, if it’s not too dear. We
shall scrimp and save. Grandchildren on
your knee—Vera, Chuck and Dave”. I’m not a grandmother and I work 6 days a week,
so—although I have been known to scrimp and save occasionally, I can’t occupy
my time with “knitting a sweater by the fireside” or “digging the garden,
pulling the weeds”. Maybe when I’m 67
and a half, old enough to get my full Social Security benefits and actually
retire I’ll become a bonafide senior…
During the
lockdown last year, as vaccines first became available, friends and neighbors
eagerly told me about getting on waiting lists and waiting on hold for hours to
successfully sign up for their shots.
“Have you gotten yours yet?”, they asked. “No, I’m not old enough yet”, I replied a bit
jealously. Although it made no sense
that someone a year older than me was eligible and I was not, it still bothered
me a little that everyone just ASSUMED I was that old. I wasn’t and am not 65 yet.
This spring,
I will finally achieve that milestone, as I celebrate my “Medicare”
birthday. Already I’m being inundated
with mail and offers from various insurance companies about Plan A, Plan B, Plan
C, Plan D, Plan K, Plan X or Plan Z. When it first started happening, I felt
confused and quite overwhelmed. I asked
my doctor about it during my annual physical.
“Check at the Senior Center”, she advised me, “they have free classes
where they explain it all to you. You
can even meet one on one with a counselor who has nothing at stake and is not
trying to sell you anything.” When I
heard this, I actually felt tears of relief!
I had always assumed that the Senior Center was more like an adult day
care for people who have nowhere else to go.
You mean there are services there that an actually benefit me? Wow!
This time,
when I entered the Senior Center, it was with a sense of anticipation. I was there to take control of my healthcare
and learn something important that could make a real difference in my life. Maybe there’d even be a cute older man in my
Introduction to Medicare class! Well,
there wasn’t—but I did get at least a more basic understanding of a very
complicated issue—and I learned how to sign up for the counseling.
I found
myself actually picking up a copy of the “Senior Times” on my way out the door
and perusing the classes listed there with interest.
So, that’s
how I’ve come to spend Monday and Thursday mornings at the Seymour Center,
doing squats and lunges, and “rows” with a 10 lb. barbell. When I first signed up, I had been a little
worried that the class would be for frail elderly who sat in chairs the whole
time and struggled to raise one-pound weights above their shoulders. But as I walked down the hall, who should I
see but my dear friend Nancy?!
I first met Nancy
over 30 years ago in a prenatal swim class.
She had a beautiful full belly that I was envious of. I wasn’t
showing on our first day, and I felt a little bit like maybe I wasn’t truly
qualified for the class. Nancy assured
me that yes, I did belong and that it would be obvious in just a few short
weeks. This was the beginning of a close
friendship that has lasted through the years.
I hadn’t
seen Nancy in some time. Here she was,
in the class before mine—dancing Nia-- practically glowing as she shimmied her
shoulders and circled her hips. She
looked beautiful, strong, and sexy with her flowing white hair and her colorful
leggings and tunic. I felt as if she
was leading the way again—saying “yes, you belong”.
The strength
training class is a good fit for me-- challenging enough so that I feel I’m
getting a workout but not intimidating. I don’t have to feel self-conscious about how
I look, or what my body can or can’t do anymore—since everyone around me is
basically in the same boat.
And
sometimes, on Thursdays after class I stop in at Harris Teeter to pick up a few
groceries. I automatically get the
senior discount. No one even asks me
anymore!