Here’s a tiny story that didn’t make it into the Daybook of My Personal Faith. I’ve changed the grandchild’s name—but the point remains the same:
I decided quite early that I was not going to be coy about how old I was, because it fits into the ageism that we have in the society. There were certainly times when someone (almost always a man) would say to me and one of my daughters “My goodness, I thought you were sisters!” I would say, “You know, you need to get your eyes checked!”
There was another time when my grandson, Charley and I were in the grocery, and in the checkout line. Charlie said in a loud voice, “Now! I am four and you are 60.” I said, “Right,” as several people turned to look.
Then Charlie said “When I am five, you will be 61.” Again I said, “Right.”
Then he asked, “When I am 10, how old will you be?” I said, “Sixty-six.”
People were still looking, and even more of them were smiling.
Charlie was quiet for a minute as he thought and then he said, “When I am 51, how old will you be?” I grin, and say victoriously, “One hundred and seven!”
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