Dare I say it? The older I get, the less I like older people

My God, isn’t that a rotten title?  Growing up, I loved old people.  (Wait, is that politically correct?  Okay, how about senior folk.)  But I did—in fact, the older the better.  When we lived in town in the ‘60s, our neighbor was this 77 year old woman named Katie, who I enjoyed visiting with on occasion.  She lived alone with 400 lbs of old newpapers & her cat Ginger, an orange tabby. 

Sometimes I’d go over to pet Ginger and once I asked Katie where Ginger got her name.  Katie said from her color, and I said I thought it came from the movie star on Gilligan’s Island.   She acted like it was the funniest thing she ever heard.   I have one more story about that sweet woman—a couple weeks after my sister Shawn’s birthday, I told Katie how our parents had thrown her a big party with 50 kids, and a couple years earlier had a party for our older brother Duke, but for some reason I got skipped over.  Later that week after coming home from school, there was a chocolate cake sitting on our kitchen table with “DOUG” squiggled across the top.  

Okay, it wasn’t so much a chocolate cake as it was a chocolate brick—it was loaf-shaped and very dense, like a poundcake.  Who cares, it was chocolate and had my name on it!

My birthday wasn’t for another month, I figured I’d done something really fabulous to warrant this early celebration.  My mom said “It’s from that old lady next door!  She thinks you’re a nice little boy and was curious why we never celebrated your birthday, did you tell her we keep you locked away in the basement too!?”

From that same year, there’s my Dad with my brother Steve on his lap, my brother Duke in glasses and me looking pretty darn fabulous

Anyway, that was then and this is now, and if I saw a robot giving the shakedown to a couple of the senior folks here in my apartment building… I’m not sure I’d be in a big hurry to call and report a mad robot was on the loose.  

A couple days ago as I was exiting the building, Sue (one of the 70-ish ladies from Violet’s posse that I wrote about here) said “There’s Doug!  Where is Doug off to now?”  I said to the store to get some ice cream.  She said “You worked for UPMC, right?”   Yes. 

“Doing what?”  I said I was just another grunt in the IT dept and worked with computers.  She asked “So what are you doing now?”  I said “Nothing, but I’ll be eating some ice cream real soon.”

She said “Besides that… what do you do?”   I said “Not much of anything I guess.  Sue, I don’t have another job, I’m retired like you.” 

She said “Yes I know—but what do you DO.”   I said “I dunno!  Watch movies—read books, talk to family and friends, eat junk.  I’m not sure what you want to hear…”  

She said “No… listen.  WHAT—DO—YOU—DO.”

Hmm… do I choke the life out of her or smash this vase over—I gave Sue my Katherine Hepburn salute instead and walked out the front door.  As I went down the walkway I vented “WHAT THE HELL’S YOUR PROBLEM!”  just in time for a man coming in the opposite direction to give me a confused look before looking down to see if he’d forgotten his pants or something. 

Dude I wasn’t talking to you, I was--Sue do you see what you made me do??

And it just happened again.  I received an email from Barnes & Noble that my nifty new Nook Tablet 10.1 was on its way, due to arrive any minute. 

I am in some real love here; it’s no ipad or Samsung Galaxy Tab, but it’s still a full fledged Android tablet, has a 10” screen and comes with access to the Google Play store.  It only set me back $129 too

I head down to the lobby, and (groan) there’s 79 year old Jack sitting there, holding his cane by his side like a scepter.  On Fridays the lobby is his kingdom.  He says “What can I do for you, Chief.”  I said I was just waiting for a package to arrive.  He asks where from, I say Barnes & Noble.

“Barnes & Noble?  What are ya ordering books in the mail for, we got a library right down the street.”   It’s not books Jack, it’s a tab… let.  (Regret saying it as I’m saying it.)

“A tablet?  Like artist supplies?”   No Jack, it’s like a… handheld computer you can watch movies on and read email and digital books with.

“Aw, what kind of crazy shit is THAT.”   It’s not crazy shit Jack, it’s like those smartphones you see everyone with, only bigger.

“Well, the UPS man already made his deliveries.  Let me hoist myself up and get my Yellow Pages, where’s it coming from, Waterworks Mall? That’s the closest Barnes & Noble around here.”   No thanks Jack, it’s coming from Connecticut or New Jersey or something.  I ordered it online.

“Aw, what kind of crazy shit is that!  You got a real store, 20 minutes drive from here!” 

I DON’T HAVE A CAR, YOU CRAZY SH—I MEAN JACK!   As I stood there debating the best way to put this fool out of his misery and mine, my package arrived.  Jack, you’ll live to see another day.  I once again gave my Katherine Hepburn salute and headed to the elevator as I heard him call out after me.  “Don’t forget we got a library right down the street Chief!” 

I yelled back “I know, Jack—I’ve been there a bunch of times!”  He said “Never been there, myself!  I don’t read books if I can help it!”