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Debbie Sharp Loeb, teacher by training but full-time mom to a disabled son, craftsperson, bead artist, great cook, creative homemaker & terrific spotter of cool new products for everything under the sun, presents Hodgepodge: recipes, household hints, stories about children, friends & relatives, cool stuff, music, & much more.
Email: debbie@geraniumfarm.org

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Thursday, April 26, 2012

Forty to Sixty-Two All in One Day

So, while we were at the hospital I going down this long narrow hallway coming back from getting myself a salad.  In the distance I see a very elderly looking gentleman who is walking with a cane and then stopping every few steps and leaning against the wall.
Me: “Do you need help?”
Him: “I get a little dizzy and have to stop and rest.”
Me: “Oh, I get that too. I have spells of vertigo.”
Him: “ You must be half my age.”
Me: “I don’t think so. How old do you think I am?”
Him: “Forty.”
Me: “Oh, THANK YOU! You made my day!” I give him a hug!
Him: “How old are you?”
Me: “I turned sixty in January.”
Him: “Hmm . . . I don’t know. Maybe it’s your make-up?”
Me: "How old are you?"
Him: "I'm eighty three."
Me: “Well, you have a good day now. Thanks again.”
                                     *********************************************
At the end of the night, around 10pm, it’s time to head home. I go down to the main lobby to validate my parking stub. The machine says there is a discount if you are a senior but doesn’t say what age is considered a senior. I see the security guard sitting behind the counter and ask.
Me: “So what’s the age for senior discount parking?”
Him: “Sixty-two.”
Me: “Oh gee, miss it by two years.”
Him: “Just go to the window, hand them your stub and tell them you’re a senior.”
Me: “Really, you sure?”
Him: “Yeah, go ahead. I’m not saying anything.”
Me: Handing my ticket to the young trainee with an older man looking on, “senior.”
He slips it into a slot and pushes down. He hands me back my ticket and I leave.
                              *************************************************
The next day I go to pick up Paul, go to the window, hand my ticket, “senior”.
The woman says, “Are you leaving soon?” I told her I was just waiting for my husband to come down.
I put the stub into my jacket pocket and as I turn he is being wheeled down. I go to help him with the sneakers I brought, (one of his shoes was lost the day before) then stand,  turn to head for the door, I’m being called to. “Mam, you need to pay for your parking.” “Oh.” I go over to the machines, place my stub in the slot and it says, $1.00. “ Oh crap I’m thinking. I never paid last night. Oh well . . . The gate had gone up and I got out . . . lol

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