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Too Old for What?
by Jeanette A. Lintelman
I hate being too old, too fat, or too dense. In the ‘40’s and ‘50’s my parents, teachers, and other authority figures were always telling me that I was too young, too thin, and too smart for my own good.
“How can you write?,” my mother scolded. “You can’t even spell.”
“How can you cook?” my father warned. “You don’t eat enough.”
“What is your experience? You haven’t lived enough,” my teacher advised.
Things have changed. Recently I presented an in-service program for staff in the nursing home where I worked. Although I am retired, occasionally the administrator calls me back to do an educational program for employees. At last months program I introduced myself: “My name is easy to remember,” I told the group. “Think of Jeannette McDonald and you will remember my name.”
Most of the employees looked at me with that blank look in their eyes.
“Jeanette who?” I heard one nurse whispered to the person next to her.
“I though her name was ‘Little’ something.” Said another nurse in the back row.
So in my usual helpful way, I tried to clarify things. “Like Nelson Eddie and Jeannette McDonald,” I added, and passed out the worksheet for the workshop.
“Eddie who?” the secretary from the third floor muttered.
“No, Nelson,” another person corrected her, “Nelson Mandela I think she said.”
“They were singers. They made movies,” I was not going to give up without a fight.
“What did they sing,” someone in the back called out with just a bit of a snicker.
“Rosemarie,” I said, as I opened the flip chart to begin.
“Never heard of that song,” a twenty something blond with very spiked short hair added.
I looked for some sort of support. Surely there were one or two people in the mix who were close to sixty, or watched TNT once in a while. But no one would admit recognition of this famous musical star of the thirties, from whom my parents picked my name. Does this make me too old?
Now as to being too fat, well, I have a good excuse. My forebears were big people. They were fat but they didn’t seem to know it. They lived their lives being happy at times, sad at times, productive sometimes, and unproductive, much like thin people. They didn’t worry about being too fat for the seat on a bus or a train. Flying was for the very wealthy and just a fledgling industry so they didn’t have to worry about having a butt less than twenty-two inches wide. Dave Tyson was a radio personality in Pittsburgh when I was growing up. I still remember his tag line: Fair, Fat and Forty.
If you asked a forty-something person back then what they did in their spare time they might answer: crocheting, knitting, tatting, sewing, baking, reading, Bingo, cards, board games, and listening to the radio. Today’s forty-year-old would reply hiking, biking mountain climbing, skiing, kickboxing, power walking, etc. It’s no wonder they are thin. Their favorite beverage is bottled water today. They are not worried about that seat on the plane. Meanwhile my husband gave me a seat belt “extender” for my birthday for air plane travel. Does that mean I am too fat?
As for being too smart, if anyone out there has a PDA or if they have a cell phone and are able to take pictures with it and access their email-- well, bless your hearts. I can’t remember to hold in the flash button on a throwaway camera when taking pictures. I have no idea who Paris Hilton is but I do remember that Nicky Hilton was married to Elizabeth Taylor. Does that mean I am too dumb?
Some things have stayed the same. I still can’t spell. Thank goodness for spell check. I still can’t cook. Thank heavens for luncheon specials. And my husband is always telling me that I am too smart for my own good, which is not a compliment. But I do have my own personal airplane seat belt extender, and proud of it.
Jeanette can be reached at (412) 931-4386.
