LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
CAMPOUT: A Rehoboth Journal -- As Old As Vinyl And Twice As Scratchy |
by Fay Jacobs |
They found me. It was inevitable, but it was still a jolt. Every day for the past several weeks Id skulk into the house, sweat trickling down my back, terrified of seeing the mail. And every day Id say "Whew! Just bills!" But with every day IT wasnt there, I knew I was closer to the day when it would be. And that, sports fans, was yesterday. I got my application to join AARP. For readers too young to understand the stake through my heart, the AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) is an omnipotent organization for persons over the BIG 5-0. Irritatingly, you dont even have to be retired. You can still have years of office politics, bad coffee and homophobic bosses to go. But the second anyone ever born gets within spitting range of fifty, AARPs data base lights up and they zero in. Forget the CIA, FBI, or the Royal Mounties. AARP should be on the trail of Jon Benet Ramseys killer and the abortion clinic bomber. And talk about a group that recruits. Their tactics include brainwashing recent applicants so they cough up names of equally decrepit friends. "Are you now or have you ever been about to turn 50? Can you provide names of your comrades?" Somebody ratted on Al Gore this week and he, too, got his letter bomb. So I stood staring at the envelope, hearing the theme from Hawaii 5-0 in my ears, wondering how I got this old. I mean unless I make 100 Im not even middle aged anymore. About a decade ago, when I was already feeling old, but I now know that I was really quite young, I visited St. Augustine Floridas Fountain of Youth. I was sitting on the stone wall in front of a painting of Ponce De Leon, and Bonnie, camera in hand, stepped back to get the scene in focus. As she was about to snap my photo with the words Fountain of Youth above my head, a young man in a pick-up truck roared by, leaned out the window and yelled "You still look just as old!" At the time we laughed so hard the photo is blurry. Well, Im here to tell you that looking at my AARP invitation, I not only still feel as old, but apparently Ive been officially declared older than dirt. I began to realize my fate a few months ago when some zit-faced talking head on MTV called Bob Dylan the Grandfather of Rock n Roll. How can Mr. Lay Lady Lay be a grandfather? The times they are a changin. Then I was watching TVs Dharma and Greg, blithely laughing out loud at the episode where Gregs mother was apoplectic about having a birthday that ended in a zero. Very well dressed and exceptionally youthful-looking, she was, never-the-less, the leading mans mother for heavens sake, so I didnt understand why the scriptwriters had her so upset about turning 60. But I thought the show was hilarious. That is, until Bonnie told me Id made a tragic assumption and the entire show was actually based on the angst of somebodys TV mother turning 50. Since we dont have natural gas and I couldnt put my head in the oven, I spent the rest of the night with my head in a glass of Absolut. Then I got People Magazines 50 Most Beautiful People issue. The fact I didnt recognize a single person was a big clue that my blip is slipping off the radar screen of contemporary culture. I mean how did somebody named Gwenyth Paltrow get so famous without my knowing about it? And the government isnt helping my quest to stay youthful and fit either. This morning, I was huffing and puffing on the treadmill when I heard about the feds new Body Mass Report. By adjusting the national weight barometer, even as I was pounding the treadmill, and without gaining an ounce or eating a Twinkie, I was declared fatter than yesterday. There is no justice. But the mirror incident topped all. Sometime back in my forties I began to notice occasional random little hairs on my chin. Hey, I realize nobody ever talks about these things, but girls, it happens. Have tweezer, will travel. Then, several months ago the random follicle sprouts disappeared. Good news. It was only after my arms got too short for me to read anymore and I got bifocals that I discovered the harrowing truthId been fuzzy all along, I just couldnt see it. My God! How long was I walking around like Billy Goat Gruff??? Now I have to wear my damn bifocals to the damn bathroom just to see in the damn mirror. I gotta tell you, I looked younger before I could see. Woe is me. Whats the next stop? Depends? Although, in honor of their upcoming customer base of Boomers they should rename the product Baby Bloomers. And I just loved the recent news report that the music industry just celebrated the 50th anniversary of the invention of the long-playing record. Theyre obsolete for pitys sake!!! What does that make me??? So I sat there, still in my forties for a few days, staring at my AARP application. Hmmmm. They offer travel benefits, credit cards, investment programs ("Buy Viagra and Polident"), health insurance....and spouses are eligible, too. Oh sure. So, just spoiling for a fight (Im old. I can be cantankerous), I called AARP to ask if my same-sex spouse was eligible and I was shocked and delighted to find out that apparently they are progressive old farts. Bonnie, being 14 months younger is now going into her own pre-5-0 spasms, ha-ha. So I wrote the $8 check, sent my application back and joined the largest lobbying association in America. And this morning, with my actual birthday only hours away, Im moving from denial to acceptance. Heck, Rita Mae Brown and Lily Tomlin are over 50. Gloria Steinem and Jane Fonda have been there a while. Meryl Streep has only a year to go. I could be in worse company. And even old LPs are called classic rock. Just as long as I dont start walking around in plastic rain scarfs, rolling knee high stockings down to my ankles, or covering kleenex boxes with crocheted covers, I think Ill be alright. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 8, No. 8, July 3, 1998. |