I was walking Debby yesterday and I passed a woman about my age not wearing a mask.

She smiled sweetly at my dog.

I smiled back and pointed to my own mask.

Her face immediately changed and into a snarl she said “Why SHOULD I wear one?”

I said “To protect me” but she just walked away.

I’m beginning to see not wearing a mask as  political. Probably not completely but sort of.

I also want to say something about being old.

I find that most people are nicer to me.

Almost like they were when I was in my twenties.

Don’t think on any way that I am embracing old age. That couldn’t be further from the truth. (Is it further or farther?)

I am in constant shock when I happen to see myself in  a store mirror.  I was always the youngest in my family and it’s so hard to believe I’m this old.

I remember visiting my grandmother. She wasn’t really my grandmother, she was my grandfather’s second wife.

We were alone in her apartment and she was showing me all the bright color dresses she had in her closet.

“See? In my mind I’m not old. I”m seventeen in my head”

Years later she was in a home way out in Long Island and she asked to see her sisters.

I offered to drive them out.

I had a Studebaker Lark.  A really little car.

One of them smoked and both insisted on sitting in the front seat with the windows closed.

We were squeezed like that for almost 2 hours.

When the three of them got together they were no different than my sisters and me, laughing and talking.

Just before we left my grandmother asked me to give her the picture of my grandfather what was in the dresser.

It seems that the nurse had taken it away from her because they felt it made her sad.

I gave it to her and we left.

It was the last time they saw each other.

I don’t know why I’m writing this. I haven’t thought about it in years.

Old age I guess.

Now Zen