Just call me vintage

By JANET HART LEONARD

From the Hart

It’s official. I am old. Well, maybe not old old, but let’s say vintage.

This week I received my first Social Security check. Full retirement at 66 years and two months. I do not understand that particular time qualification. I just know it was when I qualified for full benefits. It’s got to do with being born in 1955.

I remember when my mother was 66. I thought she was old. I just can’t get my mind around being considered old. I walk. I go to yoga classes at the gym. I am constantly busy.

But then, I get a not-so-gentle reminder that my body parts are aging. My hip has been waking me up at night on a regular basis. The pain moves down the side of my leg. My chiropractor tells me my sacrum goes out of alignment. I just say that I have a hitch in my get-a-long. My husband thinks I may need a hip replacement. I keep thinking I am too young for a hip replacement.

I was asked this week for the name of a lady I used to work with at the dealership. I could give the name of her daughter and where her daughter lives and that her daughter is a florist. I could remember the name of her grandson. I could not think of her name for the life of me. Later in the day, I remembered. I think I have too many tabs open in my brain sometimes.

When I go to the doctor for anything, one of the first questions I am asked is if I have recently fallen. “Not really … but.” I let them know that I only fall when I trip or slip on a wet surface. I am not sure what they write in their notes, but I have no problem staying on my feet unless the sidewalk jumps up in front of me or my foot finds water or oil to slide on or my stocking feet slip on the wooden stairs. But no, I don’t actually fall because of my age. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Recently my granddaughter, Leah, who is eight years old, was sitting beside me at a restaurant. She looks at me and says, “Grandma, why do you have lines around your lips?” Her mother said, “Leah, that is not a nice thing to ask.” I told Leah they were lines you get when you get older. Leah assures me that she will not be getting those lines. I didn’t want to burst her young bubble and tell her that she will probably inherit them from me like she did my extremely small mouth. Time will tell.

Recently, our Pastor, Jen Steuble-Gibbs, gave a message where she said that people over 60 are vintage. I like that. Vintage is a good word. It won’t get old being called vintage.

If the government declares me as old, that is OK with me, as long as they keep sending me those checks. Now if I can just remember where I put my reading glasses, I can see the amount of the check that was deposited.