BUT I DIGRESS … : Getting old ain’t for sissies

By Sally Stang, Special Writer
   I’ve been thinking about death recently. I have friends who are sick. And friends who have died recently.
   This is to be expected as we age, I realize. I turned 60 this year. With each passing year, I unravel a bit more, like a nubby old sweater. The harsh reality is that all of us are just a snick and snee away from death at any moment.
   And it’s talk like this that makes me so popular at parties!
   Maybe I need to lighten up. It might not be all that bad. Recently, I attended a party for an older friend in her retirement community. At 85, she has a great “sense of silly” and calls this place “the Home for Wayward Geezers.”
   I’m guessing that the age range at the gathering was somewhere between 70 and dust. The people are still very active and mostly ambulatory, and it resembled nothing close to an episode of “The Golden Girls!”
   I saw no Dorothy, Blanche or Rose clones sitting around sipping umbrella drinks on the “lanai” (fancy-schmancy for “patio” in Florida) in their flowy, flowery caftans, with their expensive jewelry and kicky gold sandals.
   Instead, the dress code at this place seemed to be cardigans with coffee stains and comfortable shoes all around — men, women, all wearing sneakers (something you would never have seen 20 years ago, I dare say). I was the only one wearing shoes without Velcro (a godsend for the less-bendable population).
   The random conversation was, nonetheless, worthy of an episode of “Golden Girls” or any other sitcom. As I sat at a table eating cake (one of 15 store-bought cakes contributed for the festivities — hey, remind me to buy stock in Entenmann’s) I jotted down some memorable, humorous quotes from the evening:
   ”I’m starting to worry about Connie. Talking to her is like turning on the water and the faucet comes off in your hand!”
   ”I haven’t talked to my sister in 20 years. The next time I talk to her will be through that TV-psychic guy, John Edward . . . Wait, didn’t he run for president?”
   ”Excuse me, I gotta use the bathroom. I’m a walking time bomb!”
   ”Fred’s memorial service had great food and I gotta tell ya, Fred is a much better listener now that he’s dead. He would always talk me to death. I hate being informed against my will!”
   ” I can wear whatever I want. There’s less peer pressure at this age.”
   Question from me (posed gently, not that tact was necessary with this crowd): “When you pass away, do you want to be buried or cremated?”
   Delightful (and frightening) answers:
   ”Totally organic. I want my body to be laid out in a boat on Carnegie Lake and pecked apart by birds.”
   ”I told my kids to throw my body over the fence when I die. I don’t like our neighbor.”
   Cute old guy: “Does Jack Daniels make an embalming fluid?”
   My reply: “I was hoping that Hershey’s made one!”
   I think it was Bette Davis who said, “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” but a “sense of silly” sure seems to help!
Sally Stang is a Lambertville resident. She has a call in to Hershey’s about that embalming fluid idea.