Old Is Cute

by Amy Platon

We just had a lovely week. My kids’ Auntie stayed with us for 7 days, which meant some much needed fun and relaxation. It’s the only thing I would change if I could do it all again, I’d live closer to family.

It’s funny what memory does. It’s like it holds out. My memory of Auntie had her pretty much stuck at oh, 45. So every time we get together, I’m surprised at how much older she has gotten.

The things I’ve noticed has me on the look out in my own life. For instance, you know you’re old when you use the window in your wallet (the one that’s meant for your driver’s license) for your insurance card. You also know you’re getting older when you spill your coffee on the floor as you walk, but you have no idea until twenty minutes later when you’re wondering who spilled coffee all over the floor. (And some of you know, I don’t drink coffee.) You also know you’re old when you say stuff like “What is a blog honey?”

I say all of this in love, and because old is cute-when it’s on someone else.

So while Auntie was here, husband and I took off for one night to relive our youth downtown. Oh don’t laugh like you haven’t done that.

Again, my memory left off when I was in my 20’s. But oddly, I didn’t feel old when we were out. We had some drinks and watched a cover band play songs older than us, and we had fun. Then we started saying to one another, "Hey, remember Barbarellas? Wonder if they are still playing the Smiths."

So we payed our tab and marched down to what has now been renamed Independence Bar. And they are still playing the Smiths! We got carded at the door (how cute) and our adrenaline was on the rise as we realized the place hadn’t really changed that much. We grabbed a beer at the front bar and made our way to the back of the club where all the dancing takes place.

We arrived to an entire club (I mean entire club) of people rocking out to Sister’s of Mercy - we were loving it. Although, as our eyes adjusted to the smoke and strobes, we began to sense something was not quite right. (No it hasn’t become a gay club – not that there’s anything wrong with that, I have friends who are gay.) But it turned out that everyone dancing was in their late 30’s early 40’s. And it was like the exact same crowd we remembered when we used to go there, only fifteen years older, fatter, and poorly dressed. Oh my god! Husband and I looked at each other and our mouths dropped. “It’s us!”














We drank our beer and he grabbed my hand - not a moment too soon. We hit the dance floor and danced like two birds splashing in the fountain of youth. We blended right in and had the best time we’ve had in forever!

Cheers - Here's to gettin' old! And having A Beautiful Life, hope I'm cute!