Wait a minute, when did I become ...
... the grey goateed guy the teenyboppers hold the store door for and call sir
I called most everyone sir or ma'am as appropriate when I was in retail - because that's just how it's done in Georgia; and because without their business I wouldn't have been eating; and, because people like to be acknowledged and respected.
But now I'm
the grey goateed guy the teenyboppers hold the store door for and call sir.
Gonna take a couple decades to wrap my mind around that one: the whatever it is that makes me, me, has no concept of age, none, zero: I've always been
'this' and 'this' has no specific definition, it just is
. Without a calendar and a birth certificate I'd have no clue how old I am. With me being me, that might even have held true in an earlier culture where the seasons were available to mark time.
My little brother has been around a year short of half a century this month. Whaaaaaaaaaaat
WHEN did THAT happen???????
Even with watching our parents grow wrinkled and grey, the whatever it is that makes me, me, has no concept of age.
Age is a mystery, it often seems like an artificial construct.