Senior State of Mind

By Jim Hagarty

They tell you to stay young at heart. Think young. Don’t let yourself get old by believing you’re old. Don’t ever quit having fun. Always be in touch with that kid inside.


But other messages come at you that cancel out the ones just mentioned. I take my boy golfing. What a great father-son activity. Lots of time together and there’s just something about walking that gets people to talking.

One day, I dreamed up a great surprise for him. When we walked in the clubhouse, I asked to rent a golf cart. No problem, sir. Take that one out there. So we did. Up and down the hills and valleys we rode in style and I must admit, when we got out of sight of the main building, I let him drive. He was in heaven. A wonderful day.

So good was this event, in fact, that my son decided to repeat the experience with his mother. Out to the same golf course they drove, and up to the counter they marched. Now, to the joy of golfing, was added the thrill of riding on the electric cart (and maybe getting to drive it again.)

“Sorry, but those carts are reserved for seniors,” my wife was told by the attendant on duty. But, but I had had no problem getting one. How could that be? Had they changed their policy in the few days since last I was there? However I might try, I couldn’t avoid the truth.

But this is ridiculous. It was only yesterday that my best friend and I were not allowed to golf without an adult on Sundays because we would supposedly slow down the “serious” golfers. How could it now be that I am one of those guys that are responsible for getting the teens kicked off the courses?

I put the experience behind me and moved on.

I suppose it is nice that I can rent golf carts where others can’t. Last Friday, on vacation, I was driving along up north trying to find a good radio station to listen to. Every single one was broadcasting ear-blasting hard rock. I’m not a fogey – I really don’t mind hard rock and actually love a lot of it. But this day, I wanted something else.

Finally, I found it. A fantastic station. Great song after wonderful song. Every tune just as good as the one before it. Beatles, Beach Boys, Bob Dylan.

“I wish we had a station like this at home,” I thought to myself. I’d never listen to anything else if we did.

My drive into town was super enjoyable. Until this station break announcement by the DJ: “It’s 11:30 am. and you’re listening to Songs for Seniors.”

I flipped through the stations and found myself a heavy metal station. And turned my baseball cap backwards for good measure.

Next week I’m getting several piercings and a big tattoo.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 65-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.

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