I was shopping at my favorite tool store when I ran into one of the horticulturists from our county extension center. After we exchanged greetings, she reminded me of the potluck lunches the center hosts every month during the winter for area master gardeners who volunteer in the community garden. I had a perfect non-attendance record for these winter social affairs and hadn’t planned on ruining it anytime soon. But there’s something about a personal invite. I told her thanks, I might come.      A few weeks later, on the day of the next …

It was scary. At the age of 55, within mere days of my birthday, McDonald’s counter workers started serving me senior coffees. Without me asking for them. How did they know? Is that in their training course? Are they told to inspect the ears for hair growth.  Or to be on the lookout for customers with droopy trousers?  Is the shirt buttoned up but each button is one off? That one’s a dead giveaway. That’s probably how they first spotted me. Perhaps they’re told that seniors will be the ones who may look a little …