Timothy Johnson

Senioritis Is Not Just for High Schoolers

It’s that time of year again. The time around Labor Day, the time when the Island’s frantic pace becomes less frantic.

It’s that time of year again. The time around Labor Day, the time when the Island’s frantic pace becomes less frantic. The time when you can make a ferry reservation for almost any time you want. The time to take a breather, the time to drive on Circuit avenue in Oak Bluffs without six stunned tourists stepping off the sidewalk in front of your crawling car. The time when white-knuckled driving becomes ordinary, but still watchful, driving. I hope.

This time of year coincides with my birthday. I am a senior now. I wonder when that happened? AARP has been sending me stuff since I turned 50. Last fall I went to a movie in Edgartown, alone, around this time of year.

“Are you a senior?” I was asked by the ticket seller.

“Yes,” I said. “Only a senior would go out in a blinding rainstorm like this to see Robert Redford.” The movie was A Walk in the Woods, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Redford and I have aged together, or so it seems.

This year, along with the rest of my Martha’s Vineyard Regional High School class of 1970, I am 64. Like beef, we have gone from prime to aged with the turn of the calendar page. Remember the Beatles song, When I’m Sixty-Four? Man, that was a long time in the future when I first heard that song. The future is now. I wonder if it will hurt?

This morning I went to Shirley’s Hardware Store to get some light bulbs for my mother. At the checkout, I was asked if I was a senior.

“What’s a senior in here?” I asked. “Sixty-two,” was the reply.

“Yes, then,” I said, without any extra banter. I got a discount on the lightbulbs, and wasn’t asked for identification. Maybe it is because, at our high school reunion last year, I decided to stop coloring my hair Revlon’s medium golden brown. It doesn’t look that much different to me, but then, I only see myself from the front most of the time. I’m sure I will turn gray overnight pretty soon. I wonder, if that happens, if I will chicken out and start coloring it again.

Also this morning, I went to visit my husband, Jerry, at Windemere. He’s on the memory unit, has had Alzheimer’s since 2010. He just moved to Windemere after 15 months at a nursing home in Hyannis. It is good to have him home, though I doubt he knows where he is. We have been married 41 years, and I don’t think he knows who I am. I am glad he is 15 years older than I am. I would hate to deal with this disease when I am 80.

After I left Windemere, I let the tears drip for a few minutes. I suppose I should lay off the mascara and eyeliner too. It’s hard to hide the fact that you’ve been weepy when your eyes look like two burnt holes in a blanket.

This is a breathtaking time of year near the sea. The shades of blue between sea and sky are eye-popping. It is hard to hide the fact that your eyes are popping. I guess that is what sunglasses are for.

Last night someone was setting off fireworks near our home in West Tisbury. I sure hope they did not scare away the young deer who visit us in the early mornings and around sunset. I love to see deer grazing. I hate to see them dead, lying across the hood of a car. Just a personal preference which has not changed with the decades.

I checked the backyard garden, which my cousin Sandy Fisher and her daughter Connie Toteanu planted again this year. Just a few green tomatoes on the vine, nothing else. Just like last year, imagine that.

Just a few more days before I can go to Lambert’s Cove Beach any time I want. I have a new hip and have not tried it out on the path to the beach yet. But that is familiar territory. And I will take a cane.

It is the first thing on my list which I absolutely must do. When I’m sixty-four.

Comments

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Sun, 09/11/2016 - 16:21

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Sue-DeVito-Poirot Windsor, CT

We just got back from the Vineyard last night. I too am 62. My husband is a little older. We went to see Robert Redford too, last year, during a torrential rain storm. I am only reminded of my age when I catch a reflection of myself in a mirror or store window. Sometimes I don't recognize that reflection and more often than not, smile to myself and feel blessed to have had the wonderful life that I've had and still have.

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