The old folks place

We weren't sure why we received this lovely invitation in the mail.
It didn't say what was going on or why.
The little blue and silver card simply asked if we would come to a Laurel/Priest dinner on a certain date and please RSVP.
We agreed to come thinking it would be, at the very least, a free meal.
We were curious on Sunday, however, when it was announced that the youth in the ward would be coming around to gather foodstuffs that same night.
Were we invited to a sort of Hunger Banquet where we would eat a meal prepared from donated canned goods?
Were we going to be asked to share inspirational stories of our long and rich career as parents who survived teenagers? What?
Our first clue were the others we saw carefully climbing out of their cars and toddling into the church.

The prizes

Everybody had gray hair like Marc or "laugh wrinkles" like me.
We looked around and counted the couples.
Yup, we were all over 50, the "wise" people living in the neighborhood.
Except at our table there were also a couple of kids, a Laurel-age girl and a Priest-age lad (poor kids).
The second clue came when we found we were going to play Bingo with buttons.
I know Bingo. My 90-year-old diabetic dad wins a candy bar or two every week at the rest home playing Bingo. Ah ha.
This was clearly a party for the aged.
These teenagers had put together a meal and a simple program with games and prizes they thought we would and could enjoy.
They chose to sit with us and chat so they could build bridges with members of the older generation.
It was fun. The food was delicious, the conversation interesting. (We tried to avoid talking about our ailments and medical procedures.)
We won a box of blue feathers and some Fun-Dip at Bingo.
Marc and I also realized it's time to face it.
We're no longer young.
Who knew?