My grandmother is 86 and I make sure to try to speak to her at least once a week.
She keeps me in touch with a world I’ll never know but wish I did. I have both of my grandmothers, still, lucky me. My other grandmother is 83, and she drives a BMW and often goes out to eat and shop on her own. It scares me that she drives, but I admire her gusto.
And let’s not forget Bea Arthur, how cool was she? And Joan Rivers, who I share a birthday with. She’s out-of-this-world awesome, in my humble opine.
Yesterday, someone posted this website link to my Facebook page about the trendy and fashionable elderly, of which there are many in NYC.
Every time I feel judged or wary of my words, I look forward to the future, when I will be old and then it won’t matter anymore. Just make it 80, I tell myself, and then I can do whatever I please. Like the woman in the terrifically inspiring poem “Warning”, which begins, “When I am old, I shall wear purple.” Well, I do that now. But when I am old, I shall wear purple flip flops as earrings.
And ain’t no one gonna say sh!t about it.