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Who, ME?
I was running late to pick up friends from the airport, but decided to make a quick stop at the supermarket. As I loaded groceries into my car, I saw a moving vehicle hit an empty parked car and then keep going. In a completely rare and unusually successful move, I took a photo of the fleeing vehicle. When the owner of the damaged car came out, I saw she was an older lady who was understandably upset. I showed her my photo of the hit and run driver, and she shakily asked me to stay until the police arrived.
I didn’t want to leave the elderly lady, so I sent an email to my friends that I would be a bit late, and we waited for the police. When they arrived, I told my story and then the police collected details from both of us. And that’s when it happened.
The poor old lady I’d been so worried about gave her birthdate, and I realized she was a year younger than I was.
I’m officially a poor old dear.
[image generated by Canva AI]
Why am I telling you this?
Apparently, I’m old. It’s actually incredibly freeing. I just realized that all the book reviews I owe, the posts I really thought I should be writing, and the very important tasks I have waiting DON’T MATTER.
So if you’re waiting for a review or post or a book I promised, I apologize. From here on, I’m only writing what and when I feel like it. I’m officially and finally retired.
I won’t disappear, and probably couldn’t stop writing even if I wanted to. But let me apologize in advance if I do a blog with gaps, misses, or downright peculiar posts.
Because I’m officially old.
So I officially can.
Barb Taub 
Just before I retired, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t really owe much to anyone. I didn’t experience a trigger in the way you did, for me it was just a realisation, but yes, incredibly freeing.
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Oddly enough, the only thing I have to compare to it is once when I was sixteen. I was riding my bicycle up to the mountains to go camping with some friends. And I realized that I chose to do that, I chose the route I’d take, and I even chose the time for the trip.
I was about to start my college applications, and needed to come up with a major. But I also realized that every door and every road was open to me. The next years would involve choices, and each choice would also close doors and roads.
Inevitably, the next fifty years were a process of closing doors I didn’t choose to enter, and roads I didn’t choose to travel. Then last Sunday, it hit me. I might not have long roads left, but I finally have a lot of doors and roads opening before me. I think I’m going to love being old!
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That is probably the best way to handle it, Barb…
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Thanks, Barb.
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Cute post. I was at a party and we had to find someone who looked like they would have been in first grade when we were. Almost everyone picked out someone ten years younger than themselves. I was no exception. All the old people picked me. :)
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Apparently I’ve been at that party the last few years!
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It happens! A bit of a shock at first but nothing much to be done!
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Actually (see my response to Lynette above), I’m looking forward to the freedom!
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I get every day reminders……..
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Haha! Don’t we all…
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I think it was during a minor medical procedure when a nurse patted my hand and told me I was doing very well.
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Haha! At least they didn’t offer you a lollipop!
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Take heart – it’s a’nurse’ thing, this patting. At least it wasn’t on your head.😊
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Thanks, Judith. At least it wasn’t just me, then.
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You are talking my talk. When we returned to Switzerland and slowly, very slowly made new friends (we came back 1 week before the lockdown and it‘s difficult to make friends with not seeing anybody AND masks covering faces! HH tried to ‚re-awake‘ choral singers and orchestra players. I commiserated with one woman about ‚now pulling all plugs on her social and cultural engagements‘, but encouraging her all the same not to give in, and telling her about my experiences abroad. She said: Yes, you‘re right but you‘re still young and full of energy. You still CAN do lots.
Some weeks later I found out that she‘s 5 years younger than me… which proves You‘re as old as you feel. Some days I‘m 130, on others not even 30!
Great story though; I‘m sure we won‘t have to wait long for a continuation of your posts, books and more. You can‘t NOT to be active.
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“Some days I‘m 130, on others not even 30!” LOVE this!
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When did you know you were old/
Hmm, when you just told me. Thanks, Barb. Off I skip…
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But you really ARE younger than I am. AND you can still skip…
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I found out I was old last year. Every test I had at the hospital was the same… my body was old and worn out… and basically untreatable… boo hoo
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I might tell you the truth one day, Barb.😄
But you’re still here, Jaye! And it’s better than the alternative… much better – for you, and for everyone you know.😊
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I would rather be here than not, Judith… even with the arthritis… 🙏💖
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Considering the alternative, I’d say you’re doing great!
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So true, Barb… 💖🙏
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When young men and women started standing up for me on the bus or underground I thought… Yep, old. I know how you feel, Barb!
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It’s so hard—I never know whether to thank them or explain how wrong they are. (But I do take the seat they offer!)
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I think I decided I was old about 5 years ago when I decided to retire the year after I reached minimum retirement age. I’m old. No problem. I can use it as an excuse, but I prefer to use it as a badge of honor!
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Since miraculously turning 21 again doesn’t seem to be an option, there are really only two choices: old or dead. Given the alternative, being old is it’s not just an honor: it’s a darn good thing!
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Too true!
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that is hilarious, and i so get it!!! today is my official first day of
retirement and it is not going as planned at all. c’mon world, get on board with me. not doing one more thing that i do not want to do. except for today. maybe the world will catch up tomorrow.
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One of the things they don’t warn you about is that when you first retire, you make up deadlines and set objectives for yourself. Then you obsess about reaching them. But if you can get past all that Beth, I think you’ll find being retired is incredibly fun.
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I have to get over myself )
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When I realized my increased ‘nightly perambulations’ were not ominous but normal, it was a relief in more ways than one! Tee hee.
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I guess I’ll be officially old in August when I turn 80, although no one who knows me thinks I look 80 (good genes). But being old is liberating in that you don;t have to worry about what others think about you – you want to wear your nightgown out to get the paper? I just wave at people who drive by!
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The painter arrived outside my front door amid scaffold- though it is next door’s wall he is painting we discussed his modus operandi . I asked if the bespoke bin store / plant display my son built would be in the way, mentioning the jobs he does on flying visits. The painter, who was not young, said ‘Yes me and my brother help OUR mum out.’ Was he suggesting I was old enough to be his mother!
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I went to see my younger sister’s new baby, and the nurse asked if it was my first grandchild.
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When it hurt to move!
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Delicious! I was chatting outside with our neighbour (late eighties) when his friend passed by and told him to stop harrassing the old lady. For a moment I was surprised and then I found it really funny and, as you say, liberating! Like Noelle, I’ve gone out in my nightgown – to put rubbish in the bin. I’m also partial to an afternoon nap…
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