All in the Shoes

There are few places where this not-so-well-preserved 63 year old can look like the youngest person in the room. Early church services, weekday movie matinees, and "mall walking" at 8 AM come to mind. All are sites for senior bonhomie - sparkling conversation about grandchildren's accomplishments and humorous recollections of medical misadventures. "Then that doctor who looked about 12 years old prescribed this medication that cost an arm and a leg so I just went home and took a physic and was good as new." (Note to Readers under 60 - Physic is senior talk for laxative.)

There is one senior gathering place, however, where bonhomie does not apply - the Medical Testing Waiting Room. We seniors jostle for position outside the door at its 6:30 AM opening time cranky from the required 12 hour fast for our blood test. "That old bag with the walker is not getting to the sign-in sheet before me. I'm starving and the senior breakfast special at the diner is only good until 8 AM."

The people with the walkers set an effective blockade at the door this morning and I ended up number 10 on the sign-in sheet. It gave me plenty of time to look over my waiting room compadres. I realized that looking like the youngest person in the room is not a matter of actually being the youngest (We have to recite our birth dates several times during the sign-in process. About half the folks waiting were younger than I am.) nor is it a matter of being the best-groomed (I dressed in the dark this morning and combed my hair with my fingers as I rushed out the door.)

It is truly all in the shoes. Eight of ten folks sported those velcro-tab, faux-leather "athletic shoes". Only I wore tie-up shoes. I may have a few more miles on the odometer. I may look like I slept in a Dumpster. But, by God, I can still tie my own shoes. I've got to be the youngest-looking of this bunch.