At our sing-along at the nursing home last week, I reminded
everyone I’d be absent this week because I would be out celebrating my
birthday. (I’m also celebrating the Utah Shop Hop, but that’s completely beside
the point.) The residents asked how old I’ll be. I guess I should have expected
that. We’re always asking how old they are. (For the record, most are in their
early eighties. Some are in their nineties, and every now and then you meet a
centenarian.) I told them I turn fifty-nine this year. They laughed and said I
was still just a baby. I probably should have expected that, too. The last time
most of them were fifty-something, you could rent Dirty Dancing on VHS at Blockbuster Video. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: if you
want a new perspective on life, spend time with people who’ve seen more of it
than you have.
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