I live in my head a lot, imagining things that aren’t there and not paying attention to things that are. The result is I tend to bump into and trip over the rest of the world.
A few months ago, I was in my local Hy-Vee and, true to form, ran into a display of gifts bags with my grocery cart. The display stayed upright, but the bags went flying into the aisle, spewing glitter in their wake.
I stopped and began to pick them up. This was no big deal to me. I spend a lot of time picking up things I have dropped. But a woman hurried up to help me. Together, we put the stockings on the rack. I thanked her, then I noticed she was holding a cane.
“Oh, but you need some help yourself,” I said.
“Yes,” she answered, “But I am younger than you.”
Her husband rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. She looked at him and realized she might have stepped into something here.
“I’m so sorry,” she blustered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine,” I laughed.
“But still, I shouldn’t have implied you were old.”
“No good deed goes unpunished,” I said, and moved on. I really hate that phrase, but I was so thrown I couldn’t think of a different response.
I was more embarrassed by her repeated apology than by her original innocent comment. I was observably older than her, through no fault of hers nor of mine. So why the need for an apology? Being old—or “older”—isn’t an insult. At least, it shouldn’t be.
I am glad I inherited good genes and took care of myself through my many decades. I’m happy I can share a rich life with a spouse, siblings, and friends who are as old, or older, than me. I am proud that, through nature and nurture, I have lived almost eight decades and am a fully engaged member of society. Clumsy, but engaged.
So it wasn’t that the woman in the store implied I was old. The problem was that she saw it as an unmentionable—something polite people just don’t talk about. Let’s talk about it, folks. It will happen to you too if you’re lucky.
Bless her for helping me pick up my mess. I didn’t necessarily need it, but we can all use more of that spirit from one another. She did absolutely everything right and nothing wrong. I wish I had just said thank you, not mentioned her cane, and moved on. In fact, if there were to be shame assigned here, it could be to me for pointing out her use of the cane. Was that polite of me? Yet I didn’t feel I needed to apologize. She seemed perfectly competent. A person can get over using a cane, but getting old is, at best, permanent.
It’s a complex psychological process, this aging thing. I want to do it gracefully, and as with all stages of life, it’s new to me and I’m still learning. Sometimes, I need help. Sometimes, we all do. It’s no big deal. But maintaining my autonomy is key to staying strong physically and mentally. That’s all I ask of strangers in the store—don’t judge me as being less competent because my hair is grey and my skin well-textured. I’m just out doing my best, as we all are. And I’ve always been clumsy, so this is nothing new.
Next time, if something similar happens, I will be ready with the response that came to me, as usual, three days later. I will deliver it with a smile.
“That’s okay. I used to be young, but I got over it.”
Originally published in Psychology Today on January 14, 2024.