He doesn’t look crazy or like a mean old man—not yet, anyway

October 31 1971; my 10th birthday

Yesterday afternoon around 3pm, I thought I’d lay down for a quick 20 minute power nap.  No sooner had I fallen asleep, my tablet made a unique bing-bong-bing sound.  That meant someone had dropped off a package for me downstairs. 

I wonder if it’s my new salt and pepper shakers from Amazon?  That’s about as much excitement as I wanted on this cold, foggy, rainy Friday.

I jumped off my bed, debated changing my pants (I was wearing baggy pajama bottoms) for something more civilized, decided to skip it.  I stuck my feet in my flip-flops and on my way out the door, grabbed and put on my winter coat in case the driver left my parcel outside.

I took the back stairwell that goes down to the package room off the lobby, picked up my box from Amazon, walked through the lobby to the elevator and hit the up button.  (You cannot walk up 5 flights of metal steps in flip-flops, believe me I’ve tried.)  After a couple minutes, the elevator doors open and 2 boys are in there.

I don’t know their names, but recognize both.  The first is black, 10 years old.  The second is Hispanic, 9 years old.  They live with Janice in the big apartment down the hall from me.  She’s a foster mom to them and a 3 year old girl.

I said “Are you getting off?” and they just stood there looking at me.  I shrugged my shoulders and stepped in, and as the doors closed I groaned.  Every button on the elevator panel was lit.  I guess these characters had nothing better to do and were on a little joy ride.

We stopped on each floor and when we finally got to ours, the doors opened and I said go ahead, and they just stood there.  I said “The elevator isn’t a toy, boys” and stepped out.  As the doors closed behind me, the younger one said “That man looked crazy!” and the older one said “He’s mad cause he’s old.”

That honest-to-God surprised me.  Were they talking about me?  I came into my apartment and looked at myself in the mirror.  The pajama bottoms and winter coat weren’t a great ensemble, and my hair sticking up on the back of my head from laying down didn’t help, but mad?  Crazy??  Okay, maybe a little. 

I was also surprised how much that younger boy looked like me in that photo at the top, haircut included.  I wanted to find him and show him this picture and say “This is me from 1971.  You’re probably going to look just like I do now someday, and that’s if you’re lucky.  And I’m not crazy!”   But doing that wouldn’t help my case any, I’m sure. 

Anyway… aren’t these salt and pepper shakers nice?  They were $9.99 (for the brushed steel, they cost more for enamel finishes) and came in a very nice box with foam inserts if you’re looking for an inexpensive gift.  Here’s the link.  Oh and I like how they have ridged glass bottoms.  Can I get any more boring?  Thanks for reading.