Whatever happened to sweet, baby Peg-o?
I’m a fake.
A couple of years ago, desperate to get my name in print, I convinced a local baby boomers magazine to let me do an occasional column. I agreed to take out an expensive business ad in return, so I basically paid them. I was so excited about getting my drivel published that I didn’t think this through properly. That publication is for “people of a certain age,” and I’m not old. I’m young. I barely even qualify as a boomer – only in the most technical sense of the word.
If the baby boomer generation were a game of Crack the Whip, I would be the kid at the tail end of the line who gets whipped across the playground and ends up with their palms and knees bloodied.
The vast age difference between me and their readers was brought home a couple months ago. I did a column about the funky stuff going on in my body and a woman stopped me on the street to tell me how much she liked it. Naturally, I was flattered. Then she warbled, “I know exactly what you’re talking about, because I have the same problems. It’s nice to know we’re not alone” and she patted my hand. I couldn’t help but recoil in horror – this woman was at least 112 years old!
I thought, “Whoa, there, Grandma Moses, we can’t be going through the same body issues – I’m w-a-a-a-a-y younger than you. You look like the Crypt Keeper!” What with the surprise of the moment and all, I may have actually said that out loud. Don’t worry; her feelings weren’t hurt. She wasn’t wearing her ear trumpet so she didn’t hear a word I said.
It’s not that I have anything against old people. I will be delighted to be one…someday. In the far, far, distant future. But for now, I’m not.
In fact, I’m the youngest member of our social set. That’s merely a coincidence, of course. I don’t deliberately choose friends who are older to make myself seem younger by comparison. That would make me one of those pathetic people who feels the need to blow out someone else’s candle to make hers look brighter. Someone who is desperately clinging to Fleeting Youth though Cruel Age has her firmly in its relentless grasp. It is laughable to even suggest such a thing – ha ha!
If that were the case, I wouldn’t hang out with these people at all because, when I really stop and think about it, it occurs to me that although they are a few years older, all of my friends are smarter, funnier and better looking than I am.
So…..that’s good. I’m happy about that. Really happy.
But, you know, it’s easy to get in a rut when you hang around with the same people all the time. Sometimes you need to change things up to grow as a person. Maybe it’s time for me to find some new friends.
If you’re interested in adding a sparkling, younger member to your social circle, let’s get together. And if everyone else in the group is stupid, ugly and dull, I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends in no time.
Peg-o-Leg's Ramblings 
Haha I feel your pain but in the opposite way – sometimes for work I have to write things directed at preteens and I feel like such an old phoney! It’s ok 😀
http://www.danikamaia.com
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So you have to pretend you’re also 12? Duuuuuuuude!
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You can hang out with me, Peg. After you get to Virginia Beach, make a right and it’s the third assisted living facility on the left. It’s called “The Home For Soon To Be Withered Old Men.” Be sure you look carefully because the home for currently withered old men is right before it. You wouldn’t like it there.
P.S. The rest of the guys are really looking forward to your visit!
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Can’t wait to see you and the boys! But remember, my heart belongs to Daddy.
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Adorable!
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Thanks!
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Since I had a child in my late 30s, I’m generally a decade or so older than the other moms at most events. They’re talking about having the next child and I’m reworking my retirement portfolio. I’ve been fending off going completely white-haired (which is, I’m sure, my natural hair color now) until the kid gets out of elementary school.
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I’m with you. Who needs the other kids saying things about “your grandma.”
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Ha!! I turned gray prematurely and when I went to pick my son up from school one day, the school secretary called on the intercom down to his class to tell him his grandma was there to get him! I was gracious. I shook my cane at her.
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I can totally relate, Michelle. I had my daughter at 36. My hair is going gray but the great thing is my eyesight is failing at a faster rate so I don’t even see the grays anymore.
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Eh? What? Just a sec — need to find my ear trumpet…
😛
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Don’t leave home without it!
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My definition of old: anyone 30 years older than me. We’re still still young chick-a-dees, Darlin’ even if we’re not a zippy as we used to be.
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That’s my definition of dead.
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Oh dear…
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The stupid, ugly and dull make the best friends, don’t they?
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I wouldn’t know, but I think it’s time to find out. 😉
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…went to high school, then college, then went back to high school teaching for about 30+ years…retired not that long ago which makes me about twenty something, right?
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I don’t know, Georgette. All that contact with high-schoolers either keeps you young, or ages you before your time. You decide.
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It makes me drink….a lot!
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Sure…blame it on the kids.
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Your posts always make me laugh out loud. I’ve always assumed you were 25 years old and merely wise beyond your age. Was I mistaken? After all, I’m only 26, so I might be. You know how green we young folks can be… 😉
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No,no, you’re right as usual, Carrie. In fact, you’re always surprisingly mature for such a youngster.
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Thank you. I get that a lot.
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I make a habit out of hanging out with bloggers way funnier and more talented than me, hoping it’ll rub off. Don’t know why I’m here.
(Ah, ya missed me, didn’tcha?)
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You’re here to be schooled by your elders, young missy.
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The elders must school you on staying out way past curfew and not calling home. We worry about you little chickadees. I mean, really… (Hope you’re well!)
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True story: my son recently saw an elderly man roller skating at our local rink and he said, “did you see that elder?” and I was like, huh? What’s an “elder”? I thought people called them old farts…? (that’s what I call myself anyway)
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Your son is a well-mannered younger.
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Hey, hold on, I am an 18 year old – with 28 years of experience in that, I think we would deal famously.
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Just keep doing it (18) until you get it right, eh?
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I hope I will never do it right if that means I have to stop 😉
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Peg you are going to have to catch up with the rest of us, this just can’t continue. Are you sure there aren’t any drugs you can buy to help age faster?
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It’s surprising how FEW people are looking for ways to age faster. Funny, really.
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I know, what’s wrong with the world. Fun post Peg … loved it!
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Us Gen Xers are in our 40s already!
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Yikes! Where has the time gone.
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I think we may need to start hanging out together, Peg. I keep getting unwanted mail from AARP, and I certainly can’t be *that* old yet. Can I??? It stinks when I’m in the checkout, buying my booze, standing there secretly hoping the clerk cards me… 😉
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That AARP crap goes straight into the circular file at my house. How DARE they imply we might be old enough to join!
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We have a great grocery store checker. She always cards. My husband is thrilled. (I haven’t the heart to tell him that carding gives the bagger time to catch up…)
Your second paragraph is hysterical.
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Your hubby falls for that empty flattery? Jeesh – I thought better of him. 😉
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Your mind fails as you age…so they say…I wouldn’t know or I’ve forgotten..something something
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Do you know this song? “I’ve written a letter to Dadeeee”. No? Then you probably do not want to hang out with me. I must be older than you.
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Do I KNOW it?? Look up, way up, to my reply to Al’s comment. And I sing it almost as well as Baby Jane.
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Ok, I did read it, but did not catch the connection. Hahahaha. You must be good singing it, because I sure remember her version!
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For me, it’s the other way around at my office, unfortunately. We discovered that one of the young women I recently hired had not been born yet when the Berlin Wall came down.
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Yikes! I always say “I’ve got SHOES older than you!”
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I don’t know when it happened, but one day I looked in the mirror and there he was; my grandfather. I was spooked, and have avoided mirrors ever since.
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I say embrace it. The next time one of my kids is taking a turn spending time with me, I’m going to ask him/her to fetch me a cup of tea and my shawl because it’s a little drafty. Just planning all the old lady-isms is keeping me amused and distracted from mirrors.
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Funny – my grandmother said basically the same thing. “I look in the mirror and wonder where that old lady came from.” I used to smile and nod politely while thinking “no idea what you mean.” BOY do I get it now.
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Earlier today, I read and replied to this from my phone during lunch. It looks like my comment didn’t go through (hmm…I wonder who’s behind that?!?). I’m sure I must have said something pithy and brilliantly amusing, but I don’t remember what it was. Because I’m old.
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That happens to me all the time. I have a real love/hate with the smart phone.
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Ha,ha,ha! I guess when you publish, you gotta take the good with the bad!
I have to tell you, hanging out with my mother and step father (in their late 70’s) has been a blast. They are more fun than my friends! Their friends have been hilarious, adventurous and quite the dancers. I joined them at an “old people’s” friday night dance party, and I couldn’t believe their energy, spunk and sense of humor. I want to be old like that when I grow up. 🙂
I’ll party with you anytime, Peg! Cheers!
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Dang – you got in with the old people who are so cool they make the YOUNG people look bad. Hate when that happens.
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Oh, Peg. Whatever Happened to Baby Jane…..another classic movie.
I remember watching that one night back at the 909 house, around midnight, when we had 3 channels to pick from. Scared me at the time. Wonderful spooky look at aging. Yeah…
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That was pretty terrifying, wasn’t it? What great actors.
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Reblogged this on beewhateverland.
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I was at a friend’s watching TV last night and Matthew Broderick flashed up on some Entertainment show. Ferris Bueller. A few years younger than us (I can’t find a current picture to add here, but believe me—pure silver). We stared at each other. “OhMyGodWe’reOld” seems to be our new refrain.
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It’s such a shock, isn’t it? I don’t feel any older. Except for my sciatica, and my gout, and my lumbago…
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Sorry Peg, can’t do it. I’m the youngest member of my group and I like it that way. Being 10 years younger than my husband is one of the few perks I have left. If I brought in a young whipper snapper like you I would have nothing!
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Dang! I’m finding that the only social groups that meet my criteria are all up at Shady Acres.
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Nothing levels me quicker than a granny who says, “I’m just like you.” Wait what? I’m at least 50 years younger!
The worst was going through the first two weeks of outpatient rehab with the silver set. They would be cranking on some machine while I groaned and tried to crush 5 lbs!
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Console yourself that you’ll keep going and end up running rings around them, and you’ll keep on running!
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Man, I could really use an ear trumpet. Then when I don’t want to hear what my kids or husband are whining about, I can just throw it at them.
Will you still be friends with me once you find out I had to read this post using a high-powered telescope? And don’t be surprised if in our first phone convo I start listing off all my physical ailment, it’s what I do best now. My kids have taken to calling me Old Lady now and I kinda like it, give me free reign to be crotchety.
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“crotchety” is such a great word. I could say it over and over again – crotchety, crotchety, crotchety! That’s the great thing about getting old. You get to do whatever you damn well please because, dammit, I’m old!
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I’ve nominated you for Premio Dardos Award.
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Why, thank you! I’m much too lazy to do the stuff that’s usually required to get awards (although I plan to make an exception if the Pulitzer committee comes a’callin,) but I really appreciate the shout-out.
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Hilarious post as always pego! Last week I had a part in a student film, and when the student emailed me the script beforehand, my scene involved myself and three other, what the script described as “mature women”. There were lines in there like “At our age, we’re heading ever closer to those pearly gates”. I questioned the age thing with him, asking if I was definitely old enough for this scene when I’m only 44, and he assured me that yes, 44 was definitely old enough. It’s quite a blow really isn’t when you realise how the youth see us! When I mix with my kids, who are both teenagers, and their friends, I really do think I’m pretty much the same generation as them, maybe 5 or 6 years older, but that’s it.
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Wha???? You, heading toward the pearly gates at 44? If the production is for other students, they probably won’t see anything wrong. If the audience includes grownups, however, the clash between the lines spoken and the youth of the people saying them will make the scene ludicrous.
That “kid” would have cast me as Methuselah at 55 – jeesh!
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Peg, you are hysterical. I’m looking for some new blog friends and would be honored to join your circle. I might even let you borrow my false teeth. But only if you ask nicely.
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I don’t know. I can already sense that you may be too smart and funny to make me look better by comparison. Let’s go for a trial period, shall we?
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I’ll take it! Better to be friends w a comic genius for a short while, than long-suffering w a fool. At least that’s what my husband (of 16 yrs) tells me.
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I don’t know, Peg. I’m the young, sexy one in my group. If you join in, you and me combined? We could kill them all off.
The police would be called.
There’d be rumors and talk.
We’d become the scourge of WordPress. People would flock to our blogs in droves. We’d become famous. And rich.
I changed my mind. Come on over. Immediately.
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