It is cold is Georgia! When I left home to go down to the campus yesterday, it was 18 degrees Fahrenheit! I put on a blouse and pants, a cardigan, a coat, hat, and gloves. My right hip and left leg were not happy campers, as old Arthur was in full play, which necessitated as much clothing as I could bear to wear.
But, as I passed the youngsters, I wondered if I older adults feel the cold more than young people. One brave lass had on just a sleeveless dress, with no coat or sweater! I wanted to scream at her, “Where is your coat, young woman? Do you want arthritis in your armpits? ” How in the world could she not feel the chill when I was snuffling trying to keep my nose from running. It actually felt colder than 18 degrees with the wind.
Other students wore sweaters, sweatshirts, or a scarf. A male athlete in one of my classes had on shorts! I felt somewhat out of place, all bundled up and wishing I had on more. I walked carefully as well, because there were still icy patches, so everyone who moved faster had to go around me. Some gave me a look when I refused to cross on a green light as did my younger counterparts, because 70-year-old bones don’t heal like 20-year-old bones.
It’s funny that I think about all of the stereotypes of older people, and I am almost embarrassed to be old. However, the alternative to growing old is death! Enough said! I laugh because older adults today are experiencing the consequences of not listening to the older people in our lives when they gave us sage advice. I remember walking very fast everywhere I went as a young person. One day, a older lady said to something to me like, “Slow down, child! You will need those knees when you are older!” I smiled at her and dismissed her advice as foolishness.
Well, today, as I deal with arthritis and bursitis in both knees, I understand and am not laughing. I will let the young people dress as they wish, and even admire their attire. But, I will keep ensuring my comfort!
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Help from Heaven 
There are benefits to growing old too. People let us do what we want
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Some younger people (whom I do not know) have recently taken to calling me “Honey,” “Dear,” “Sweetheart.” Why?! Have I suddenly become the grandmother to people I don’t even know? The car wash attendant last week was calling me “Love.” It makes my eyes go buggy, but I really should just laugh it off instead. I guess there are worse things to be called by strangers.
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