Old People are Funny. Funny like a Clown.

I'm sitting in Panera getting my free WIFI. Usually the noise is so diffuse (coffee cups clanging, orders being taken, the odd child crying, etc) I can't hear really one conversation or particular voice so it serves as a great source of white noise.

I guess I've been sitting here longer than I thought because I look up from my computer and there's only about 10 or so other people in the whole place.

I get back to work.

It's now about 4pm (aka dinner time for those of a certain age). I am snapped out of my key-clicking email trance by the sound of a squeaky wheel of one of those push walkers (not the old school kind with the tennis ball traction feet, one of the nicer, newer ones-this one is a metallic red). The octogen trio sits right in front of me.

I try to blend that with the sound of the cappuccino machine, another whining child and someone closing a deal. I try but then I start to hear the things one of the OG's is saying. Even in the sunset years, people assume their roles. She is the alpha female. She is holding court.

The first bit of conversation that perks my ears is her complaining about her church. That's kind of funny to me. Complaining about church? Here's how it went:

When talking about her 'new fangled' preacher who uses a powerpoint presentation to display scriptures on a large screen in the middle of the santuary:
"If I wanted to see a movie, I'd go to the movies. He doesn't even wear a suit jacket, just a sweater-that's so distracting on Easter"

Again, I try to slip back into my work so from then on I only hear bits and pieces of the conversation:

My left leg is dragging a bit more lately, it's heavier now or something.

Is that a christmas outfit?

Her music I don't like. Can't understand a word of it but she's an adorable girl. She could be insulting me and I wouldn't even know it.

I'm a traditional person, I'm sorry. I can't help it. (after a long diatribe on one thing or another- when did intolerance equate traditional?)

Well, it's getting near 4:30, I should get home.

And the kicka: the colon likes a good oatmeal

I was feeling a little smug and dismissive of this old lady and all her old ladiness. But then, the gentleman that was with her said, "Ok, come on Doris. Let's get you home."
My grandmother's name was Doris. What a beautiful name. What a beautiful lady. I like old ladies.

~Aimee