By Ellen Brown
I took a walk with an old woman yesterday. The heat wave had broken and the weather was perfect. She said don’t get her wrong, she loved the winter and her cozy sleeping-bag coat, but it felt so wonderful to walk outside in just a t-shirt.
The old woman greeted the doorman and the porter hosing down the sidewalk. When are they going to take the scaffolding down? she asked the porter. I heard a year, he said. She stuck her fingers in her ears and said, Don’t tell me that! and moved along.
The next doorman in the row greeted her and they chatted for awhile about the weather and baseball. Why do people root so hard for the Mets? she asked. Because they’ve been down for so long. He said there was a curse on them because their coach had done something bad years ago. How old are you? she asked. 41. You’re younger than both my children! the old woman cried. You look good, he said. She stuck her thumb in the air and moved along.
We had planned to go to the park, but the city drew us in. She needed something to wear to a business meeting the next day. We decided to go to a new store, not the only one she had frequented forever. She was not a shopper. She wanted to go to a place where they didn’t know that, so we turned left instead of right on Columbus Avenue and headed for BOC — Boutique on Columbus.
At first the old woman rummaged through the racks, eyes down behind her sunglasses. Then she realized she was being rude and whipped them off and said to the saleswoman, I’m sorry. I haven’t looked you in the eyes.
They were alone in the store, except for me. The saleswoman was in her 20s; the old woman, her mid 70s. They found a few shirts that would get her through her meeting and she brought them to a dressing room and we went in. There were mirrors on opposite walls, and, of course, we looked in, but saw only one reflection.
The old woman gave a little gasp. She still wasn’t used to being old.
Editor’s note: We regret the original choice of photograph. It was meant to make you laugh along with the old woman. Don’t blame the poor writer. We are seeking a replacement. Send suggestions to info@westsderag.com!
You’re calling a woman in her 70’s old?? Try in her 90’s.
We might be starting another MeToo movement here. I’m 72 and don’t consider myself an “old woman” thank you very much. 😄
Agreed- Is that really a photo of a 70 year old???
I agree! A woman in her 70’s is definitely not old…(said a woman in her 70’s…:) 😊
Right you are!! Turning 74 soon, and not feeling ancient yet!
Mid 70’s is not old in today’s terms.
The picture and the age cited just don’t match the theme of the story. Whoever wrote this doesn’t really understand aging. Septuagenarians generally are independent and do not look like the photo. We do have wrinkles…but we are not generally as weathered as the woman in the photo.
“She needed something to wear to a business meeting the next day. ”
Yeah, that old woman seems totally past being a useful member of society.
How old is the author?
Is this article meant to be a parody?
This is a very strange article. The woman in the photo looks as though she is between 90-100 years old. 70 is not old in today’s world, and I’ve never seen a woman look THAT old at 70. What was the point of this?
“I don’t understand this old stuff. OK when I look in the mirror, I see an ‘older’ version of myself, but not an old woman. I feel vibrant and healthy and happy. Sure I can’t do what I use to do at the gym, but I do what I can. Age is a state of mind. I know ‘old ‘ women who are 50, and ‘young’ women who are 75. If you see an old woman in the mirror, change the woman. I hope I don’t come across as preachy or judgmental, just don’t like this old crap.”
On behalf of all the “old” women on the upper west side…please take that photo down.
Just read this for a second time and realized (I think?) that the narrator is actually talking about herself. She is the old woman.
I initially thought that and it was like a creative writing exercise. But it certainly didn’t read that way to everyone and indeed came across as somewhat offensive. If the intent was to have that aha! moment of revelation at the end, it needs to actually be spelled out, I’m afraid
.I’m 89 and I’m not old! I walk two miles every day, go to exercise and painting classes, volunteer at the Metropolitan Museum and advocate for people with hearing loss. I suggest the author of this story meet people in their 80s, 90s and 100s for a proper perspective.
Way to go Ruth!!!
Awful piece. Insulting on so many levels.
The woman’s openness to talk to the door men , her inquisitiveness about baseball and business involvement. show she has characteristics of not being stuck in old age. Her surprise at her own body contradicts these traits, but show she is human, not old.
Why use the word “old” at all in front of woman or man or anyone, for that matter. How about “older”. The way we age these days is completely different, as noted in the comments! I am 71, lift weights daily, walk 13,000 steps a day and power walk miles. It is indeed just a number and putting the word “old” in front of it diminishes and assumes things that most likely aren’t true.
Don’t see a picture. Guess it was taken down already. BUT 70 is NOT old! And how photogenic you look varies – some folks at 70 look as if they are 40. Some at 40 have wrinkles all over. Genes. But to repeat, 70 is NOT old.
Fascinating that the writer refers to this woman as “old.” Yet she is only in her 70s. Perspective is everything, and the writer needs a few years on her to obtain it. (I speak as someone going on 74. Please do not refer to me or my cohort as old. Older, OK, if I am older than you, but not old.
I am insulted. Mid 70’s is not that old these days. I am older. Only the young or middle aged would use that term. People can be “old” in their 40’s or 50’s, or “young” in their 80’s. Just wait until you all get there. Your perspective changes.
I turned 65 this Spring, and will tak3 an Senior Discount offered to me…. old, not yet!
Age is relative. There are those who are “old” at 12 where there are folks in their 90s who are like Spring chickens. I played full court basketball three mornings a week with guys in their late 20s, 30s 40s and 50s from the time I was 40 until I was 73. I still run my own company with clients across the globe and I have an invention in patent pending status with the US Patent and Trademark Office. I just turned 76. I think the key thing to remember is that life is one moment at a time and it’s over and then another moment and it’s over. Live now and use the Niki approach: “Just Do It.” I think it is also important to do what we enjoy doing. So, it comes down to doing what you enjoy and helping others who have difficulty doing what they enjoy doing to do so and we are probably doing what the Man upstairs had in mind for us to do.
Enjoyed the story but I have an editorial style suggestion. I’m a youthful 72 and find the terms old, and elderly not descriptive of how I feel. The New York Times is now using “older” which is somehow much less offensive. Think about it!!
Hey! Mid seventies is not old. I just swam a half a kilometer, and could have done another half, but I got hungry.
Age: 77.
It’s very clear from the ending that the entire thing was written by the “old” woman herself, and that this was supposed to be a cute exercise in demonstrating her difficulty in coming to terms with her age. Most comments suggest a misreading wherein they suppose the narrator to be a young(er) person who is throwing around the “old”adjective with terrible insensitivity and short-sightedness; the joke is either lost on most, or they haven’t read until the end. Failings of the reader aside, I assign as much (if not more) blame to the author for her clumsy attempt at humor: the heavy-handed (over)use of “old” rubs so wrong, an awkward tension that is barely alleviated by the mirror trick where the narrator realizes she is the “old” one. As everyone and their cat/dog has also pointed out, mid-70s ain’t *that* old at all…
That’s the way I interpreted it too John. That the writer was talking about herself.