Don’t Call Me Ma’am

…dedicated to everyone who is still young at heart

Now that I have reached the age where I am officially a grown-up, it still annoys me when a younger person calls me ma’am. Do I want respect? You betcha. But do I want to be reminded that I am so different in age and appearance from some young whipper-snapper? (Does that give away my age?) And the very fact that I have lived long enough to know the meaning of whipper-snapper should not be held against me.

Having reached a ripe old age, I have the advantage in that (unlike this person calling me ma’am instead of asking my REAL name), I have survived my teenage years, struggled through childbirth and watched my own children grow up only to be faced with mirror images of myself when they tell me: “I’m young and strong and smart. I know everything I need to know and you can’t teach me a thing.” Really?

You don’t get to BE my age with an attitude like that! Oh, sure, young people look at you and smile and nod but you can see the yawn in their shifty eyes. And you want to lift up your arthritic hands, take them by their scrawny necks, shake them around a little and tell them a bit about what you’ve learned in life.

But that’s not what they want to hear!

Whoa! Is that MY voice telling them the same crabby-sounding advice that my parents gave me? And did I respond any differently? Apparently, most of us are doomed to make our own mistakes because it’s so difficult to listen to the generation that came before us. After all, that group of people didn’t do such a great job of making the world a better place, did they?

I agree to some extent. It’s just that each of us only has a limited amount of energy. And usually, we are so whittled down by life that sometimes it’s all we can do to take care of our own little corner of life, let alone have the motivation to go out and tackle the really BIG changes we’d like to see happen in the world.

Instead, most teenagers are busy discovering their own talents, abilities, preferences and in knowing and being involved with what is going on right now, not what happened in the past. Well, guess what? I am too. I’m still discovering new talents, learning new skills and figuring out what I want to be when I grow up.

In my mind, I’m still young and able. It’s only when I get up slowly out of my chair, knees popping and foot numb from falling asleep that my body reminds me of what years and gravity have done to it. This shell is not able to be an astronaut, a ballerina, or a deep sea diver. But my mind is able to imagine doing all of that and more.

I can appreciate Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Flowers”, “Bye Bye Blackbird” from the 1920’s, The Beach Boys and after all that, still want to get up and dance to Pitbull’s “Fireball.” But don’t tell my kids. They get embarrassed if I use any of the new slang. I’m allowed to say “cool”, but everything else is apparently reserved for people who “look” young. Whatever that means.

When I look in the mirror, I can see past the wrinkles and gray hair to the face that once was, the one that matches my mind and my youthful heart.

One day, you will be older, too. Then you will hope that others will be able to look at you and see the “real” you — the person you are on the inside. We were all young flowers at one time. And we are all young flowers on the inside still.

So when you next speak with an older person, ask them what their name is. Smile and look directly in their eyes. It’s okay to treat them like a normal person. And don’t assume that just because they look like an elderly person they must think like one, too. On behalf of those of us who are age-challenged, I thank you.