Barbara J. Hamby

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Venerable, Anyone?

Today was a bit sad. I went to Washington Square this morning. After walking through three large stores, I realized I was exhausted and in severe pain. It’s tough to admit I can no longer “walk the mall,” but that’s the way it is.

For probably more than ten years I’ve done a lot of my clothing shopping by catalog. I’ve never hankered to be a high fashion type and only require that clothes fit tolerably well. If I can’t find any that will, I have a friend who does alterations for reasonable fees. Catalogs often serve me well on the very rare occasions when I need household items.

This morning I was looking for chairs. Specifically, I want chairs that will move easily to go around our large, lovely oak table in the dining room. Thus, they should have wheels or casters. Not much to ask, one would think. Not so. Several times, I’ve thought I’d resort to steno or desk type chairs because they are less expensive, seem to be as well made as dining room chairs, and are more readily available. And so, the hunt goes on. I guess I’ll try Office Depot next.

I am a fan of a blogger who is about fifteen years my junior and a male writer. Today he mourns the word “venerable” which he says is out of favor probably because old people want to be young now and not claim venerable status. Well, I’m here to grab such distinction with great vigor since I seem to be losing a lot of the attributes common to younger folks, energy and stamina among others. Call me venerable and smile when you say it.

I remember my late mother complaining, in Rodney Dangerfield fashion, that she got no respect because her hair never got really gray. Bless her heart, she actually thought people still accorded respect to the elderly. She and her heirs were born too late for such honors. But I still remember stepping aside, as a youngster, to let older folks go by. That’s how we were taught.

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