A family story goes like this: My uncle wanted to take my grandmother to a Mass for the elderly. She refused to go because she said it was for old people. My uncle reminded her that she was “no spring chicken.” We all laughed about it, but I’m beginning to understand why she didn’t go.
I recently joined two community centers near my house. One is for the general public, and one is specifically for senior citizens. I fully qualify for the senior citizen one. I am old enough to be there, but I believe I am one of the youngest members.
Don’t get me wrong. These are very active senior citizens. The exercise classes fill up quickly, there were a dozen or more of us at the last book club meeting, and there are always puzzles, games, and other activities available. I just haven’t found where or if I fit there yet.
I’m not sure when the term “tween” came to be. It means that awkward time between ten and thirteen years old. Children of that age are not little anymore, but they are not teenagers either. I can relate.
I think it is time to make up a new word. My new word is “twelderly.” Before retiring, I was one of the oldest employees at any of my schools. Now I find I’m one of the youngest people at the senior citizen center. I know I am a senior citizen, but I don’t yet feel elderly.
I love being with people regardless of how old they are, but I find that I am at a strange stage of life. I plan to keep going to both community centers to make new friends of all ages. Being twelderly is not so bad.