I Am A Senior Citizen

I had a horrible thing happen to me earlier this week that I was too appalled by to mention to you. But, now, this morning, this first day of the new year, Alma, the Songbird of the Texas Gulf Coast, sent me, well, a poem sort of thing, the theme of which, is, well, remembering way back when, in the 1950s, when the world was young and innocent.

So, what was the horrible thing that happened to me? Well, I went to Zorro's Buffet on Monday. You pay when you enter. I said to the pimply-faced teenager, "4 adults." She then asked me a question that forever will be etched in my memory as the mark of the end of an era. She asked me "Senior discount?"

I was mortified. Do I look 60 I asked? Is it my gray hair? She said she always asks if the person has gray hair because sometimes they get upset when they don't get their Senior (one measly dollar off) Discount.

I told the girl I was only 29 with prematurely gray hair and that I was quite offended and felt very insulted. She giggled during this entire painful scene. She did say she thought I was remarkably well-preserved for an elderly person. That made me feel slightly better.

And now the words sent by Alma, with a Senior Citizen lamenting the changing times....

Long ago and far away, in a land that time forgot, before the days of Dylan, or the dawn of Camelot. There lived a race of innocents, and they were you and me.

For Ike was in the White House in that land where we were born, where navels were for oranges, and Peyton Place was porn.

We learned to gut a muffler, we washed our hair at dawn, we spread our crinolines to dry in circles on the lawn.

We longed for love and romance, and waited for our Prince and Eddie Fisher married Liz, and no one's seen him since.

We danced to 'Little Darlin,' and sang to 'Stagger Lee' and cried for Buddy Holly in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Only girls wore earrings then, and 3 was one too many, and only boys wore flat-top cuts, except for Jean McKinney.

And only in our wildest dreams did we expect to see a boy named George with Lipstick, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We fell for Frankie Avalon, Annette was oh, so nice, and when they made a movie, they never made it twice.

We didn't have a Star Trek Five, or Psycho Two and Three or Rocky-Rambo Twenty in the Land That Made Me, Me.

Miss Kitty had a heart of gold, and Chester had a limp and Reagan was a Democrat. Whose co-star was a chimp?

We had a Mr. Wizard, but not a Mr. T and Oprah couldn't talk yet, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We had our share of heroes, we never thought they'd go, at least not Bobby Darin, or Marilyn Monroe.

For youth was still eternal, and life was yet to be and Elvis was forever, in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never seen the rock band that was Grateful to be Dead and Airplanes weren't named Jefferson, and Zeppelins were not Led and Beatles lived in gardens then, and Monkees lived in trees, Madonna was a virgin in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We'd never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars and babies might be bottle-fed, but they weren't grown in jars.

And pumping iron got wrinkles out and 'gay' meant fancy-free and dorms were never coed in the Land That Made Me, Me.

We hadn't seen enough of jets to talk about the lag and microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.

And Hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea and rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made me, Me.

Buicks came with portholes, and side shows came with freaks and bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks and Coke came just in bottles and skirts below the knee and Castro came to power near the Land That Made Me, Me.

We had no Crest with Fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues, we had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal tea or prime-time ads for condoms in the Land That Made Me, Me.

There were no golden arches, no Perrier to chill and fish were not called Wanda and cats were not called Bill.

And middle-aged was 35 and old was forty-three and ancient were our parents in the Land That Made Me, Me.

But all things have a season, or so we've heard them say and now instead of Maybelline we swear by Retin-A.

They send us invitations to join AARP, we've come a long way, baby, from the Land That Made Me, Me.

So now we face a brave new world in slightly larger jeans and wonder why they're using smaller print in magazines and we tell our children's, children of the way it used to be, long ago and far away in the Land That Made Me, Me.