How many times was I ordered to act my age when I was a kid? Probably several thousand. When my mother issued the command to act my age (whether my age was 6 or 16 at the time), what she really wanted was for me to act older than my chronological years. She wanted me to stop acting like the kid that I was. I suppose that was a good thing, in the long run, since we all have to learn to grow up.
It's ironic that once we're grown we celebrate "thinking young." It's a fine line to walk between old fool and old fart, but if you have to chose, be a fool. I was headed into Shop Rite the other day when I turned to check out the source of blasting Motown music. I saw a bald and bearded seventy-something cleaning the windows of his spotless Lincoln Mkz. Parking lot detailing is not usually undertaken by septuagenarians. But why shouldn't we oldsters flaunt those rides we can finally afford by windexing the glass and Armor All-ing the tires at the local market? Car pride shouldn't just be a nineteen-year-old's game.
The Burlington County Amphitheater is another place to see the senior set shed a few decades. You might be sixty five when you plop down in your lawn chair, but you feel twenty one after two hours of head bopping, foot tapping, and singing along.
I'm not a big supporter of driving cars into your 90's or flying airplanes into your 80's. I do however think you should get up and dance until the day you die. Like this lady:
Or this lady:
Or this lady:
Thank you Bev! I no longer feel foolish about dancing around my house alone. Better to be a fool than a fart.
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