I think I wrote about this a year or so ago...about getting an invitation to the old folks dinner in our ward and not understanding what was going on until we got to the church?
This year we recognized the event when we were invited.
There was no question.
We are among the "old folks" in our neighborhood and once a year, the young men and young women in our LDS ward treat us to a dinner.
It's really quite nice and we appreciate the effort.
They make the meal, serve the meal, sit with us and tell jokes and sing songs while we eat.
It's a gift from them to us, a chance to bridge generations, make new friends.
The problem is Marc and I don't generally think of ourselves as old folks.
We look around the pews at church and see a lot of young families and people with fewer wrinkles and not as much gray hair but we stay firmly in denial.
We can still walk around pretty much without help and one of us can even still ski. We both still work and contribute to society.
When someone mentions "old folks" I think of my father who is in his 90s and pretty much losing touch with reality.
I went to lunch with him last week at the real "old folks" home.
Everyone around us was toddling and parking walkers.
The lunchroom featured lots of sugar-free menu items and easy-to-chew foods.
There was plenty of air freshener flowing in to mask the smell of medicine and age.
To me, that was an old folks dinner.
And I was just visiting...as yet.
1 year ago