THE OLD-OLD

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 235

Welp, apparently, I’m getting old, because I think I done forgot how to count. Yesterday, I numbered our tally at 233, the exact same as the day before. I’m so far gone I didn’t even catch my mistake until just now.

Now, while ya might think that was just a harmless typo, I made the same error in my digital file cabinet too. So, there’s that. A simple cataloging blunder for sure… though my pride is praying it’s not early-onset senility. LOL.

That all said, evidently, I’m not that old. According to some of my old friends—and I don't mean friends I’ve had for a long time, but friends who are actually older-than-me old—I’m still a spring chicken at 57. While my creaking bones and joints vehemently argue otherwise, my friends suggest I haven’t even come close to reaching “old” status yet. Allow me to retell the genesis of today’s “old-old” story.

So, being Thursday, I posted a couple signs on the office doors saying I’d be in-and-out visiting folks. First there was Ronnie (who I guess qualifies as old-old)—a supreme storyteller in the absolute best (with honors) ways. Then there’s Gloria, who can out-snark the snarkiest of snarks (yours truly included). Then, we have LaDonna: the oldest of the old-old. When I look at her, I literally see manifestations of Auntie Carol staring right back. And lastly, Elaine—she too is up there in that same demographic. She and I can gab for hours like a bunch of schoolgirls. Kid. You. Not! Because she's always my last visit of the day, usually more than two hours pass before I realize I gotta peel myself out of the chair. I have to remind myself that Danielle might actually want her husband to come home eventually! Hehehe.

Seriously, I look at my aging friends, and I see my parents, and aunts and uncles in them. They’re that same demographic: the silent and forgotten generation. And this bunch, I tell ya, is an absolute hoot.

Well, in chatting with LaDonna, she begins to tell me this story, which sparked today's blog. A day or two ago, she’d just gotten back from an appointment, and as she stepped off the bus, one of her “old” friends was waiting to head out.

Now, prior to this appointment, Ms. LaDonna innocently inquired if the bus driver might take a tiny detour to A&W on the way home. Why? Because raspberry ice cream cones were on sale for a buck, and hey, it’s A&W and it's ice cream. But the driver said no.

What an absolute curmudgeon, right? He wasn’t allowed to... blah, blah, blah company policy. Here’s me adding my two cents—we’re up to four cents now, don't spend it all in one place. “Dude, she’s an old lady; what’s it gonna hurt? You're on that tight of a schedule, pal? Heaven forbid we delay the transit system by 90 seconds for discounted dairy.”

Needless to say, LaDonna didn’t get her cone. I might just have to smuggle her one next time, right?

Well, as if God was looking down with a chuckle and a blessing, LaDonna’s “old” friend was headed to A&W herself. Without even knowing the tragic backstory, she promised to bring LaDonna back a cone. “Oh goodie,” LaDonna said. Then my old friend dropped the funniest line: “My friend is old. She’s not ‘old-old,’ but just… old. Ya know?”

Immediately, I let out a good, husky belly laugh. There is not a single day I leave LaDonna's without cracking up. “Well, what’s old-old?” I asked. “Do you consider yourself just old, or old-old?”

“Oh, I’m old-old,” she declared without missing a beat. “My friend though, she’s just old.”

For the record, LaDonna is 95, and her wit, memory, and acumen are sharper than a tack.

So, now you know. In case anybody asks, or dare one of your kids or grandkids accuse you of being “old,” you can politely inform them there are strictly defined categories of “old.”

My friend LaDonna wears her age like a badge of honor, and well she should. She’s earned it. And while I know, that you know, that I know I’ve talked about her before, she truly does remind me of my Aunt Carol in so many ways. Mostly though, I just thoroughly enjoy her company.

I’m thankful for her, Ronnie, Gloria, Elaine, and a host of others I visit. They make me feel youthful and alive inside—not just because I am younger than them, but because knowing them is a gift. And for that, I’m truly grateful.

Sure, many of them are “old-old,” but their stories and history… man, on days like today, they lift my spirits and give me the best belly laughs.

I wonder sometimes where they pull this stuff from. Then I remember, they’re exactly like you and me; they’ve just managed to survive further down the road than most of us.

As you’re hearing, today I’m grateful for the laugh, and the reminder that I’m not old yet—let alone old-old. So… how about you? Who and/or what are you thankful for today? Chime in below!