I can hear perfectly well, even a pin drop. And no, Colonel Sanders, I’m hardly ready to be fried. So why, why do I keep getting stuff in the mail advertising the latest, greatest hearing aids, and the very best, smokin’ good deals for cremation? OK, I suppose the fact that I’m 75 now does make me an Amazon prime, prospective customer. But mercy, can’t I live out the rest of my days in reasonable peace without being bombarded with junk mail heralding my demise?
I do use a cane occasionally, a few days a year when it’s cold and my arthritis kicks in. Usually, though, the cane leans comfortably untouched in the corner by my front door. While there are some pretty spiffy walkers for seniors available online these days, I’m most definitely not ready for one of them yet. I haven’t fallin’ and can still get up. Strolling along with the help of a grocery shopping cart is just fine for me, thank you very much.
You might not watch the same television shows I do, but it seems like almost every commercial I see is about some pill a decrepit old person needs…to go or not to go, that is the question. To avoid embarrassment if you do go, to sleep, to stay awake, to not hurt, etc. If you didn’t have any ailment when you started watching, you probably would by the time you finished.
I never thought of this before, until right this minute. I’ll bet it’s us old people, not our super amazingly wonderful president, who are the real reason our economy is perking along so terrifically. Just think of the billions many folks worse off than us are spending to keep on keeping on. All those ads stuffing my mailbox, plus all those commercials I’m hearing with my absolutely great hearing and seeing with my perfect eagle eyes are surely making a lot of those so-called one percenters very, very, too rich.