Just call me Maxine

For several years I've used that phase, often as an excuse for some faux pas, but now I'm not getting older. I have arrived.

I knew it when the waitress called me honey and sweetie, in a condescending way, "thanks, sweetie," she said when I paid my bill. She didn't call me that when I was in my mid forties. She waited until I grew old.

I've turned into Maxine. You know Maxine. She's that old woman who throws rules to the wind.

She throws conventional views out the window and replaces them with her own.

She's all over the Internet these days.

I identify with her more and more.

She says she doesn't exercise because it makes her coffee spill.

She also says that pitching a tent is no problem. She pitches hers in the trash and books a hotel.

She sees no need in dusting. She uses her coffee table as a message board.

She observes that in about 40 years, we'll have thousands of old ladies running around with tattoos, and rap music will be the Golden Oldies.

Lots of elderly people go on cruises, but Maxine says only on a cruise ship will you pay hundreds of dollars a day to sleep in a closet.

I'm like everyone else in their golden years. I misplace my eyeglasses or forget to wear them altogether.

My keys are daily lost in the bottom of my purse. I wander from room to room wondering why I'm there.

I'm always looking for something that I just put down and eventually find it exactly where I put it down.

I forget people's names. The other day my daughter and I were watching an old classic black and white movie. She asked me who the female star was.

Well, I thought of the male star's name. His name was Dennis Morgan, but I thought and thought trying to re-call the female's name.

Her face was so familiar but I just couldn't come up with her name..I can't believe that I couldn't identify Ginger Rogers. When her name appeared in the credits, I remembered, too late.

It was, after all, a very old movie.

But it used to be no problem for me to identify Barbara Stanwick, Hedy Lamarr, dancer Ann Miller, swimmer Esther Williams, Rita Hayworth, Dorothy Lamour of sarong fame, Betty Grable, the pin up girl; Susan Hayward, beautiful Gene Teirney, Olivia DeHaviland and ice skater Sonja Henie.

I knew them all, and the male actors they starred with. Now I'm lucky if I remember my pin number.

I've always liked the poem Warning by Jenny Joseph.

She writes about what she will do when she is an old woman.

She says she will wear purple with a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit her.

She says when she is old she shall go out in her slippers in the rain and pick flowers in other people's gardens.

And learn to spit.

She says when you are old you can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat and eat three pounds of sausage at a go.

Or only bread and pickles for a week.

She says you can hoard pens and pencils and things in boxes.

I certainly identify with that. I have baskets of pencils and books and papers in big wicker baskets.

I have a lot of things in boxes too with no space for them. I think I also have Jenny Joseph's framed poem packed away too. It was given to me by my mod granddaughter several years ago.

So I guess it's time to face facts.

The writing is in the mirror.

I've grown old.

I already have a red hat, so I'll be looking for some purple jeans, with sparkles, I might as well dress for the occasion.

I need some satin sandals too.

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