Saturday, February 23, 2013

Post the First: In Which I Receive an Invitation and Inaugurate a Blog


For more than a decade I have been receiving direct mail come-ons from AARP. Right into the garbage bag they have gone along with invitations to transfer my credit card balances, catalogs from retailers I have never patronized, and requests from any number of worthy organizations who would like to send a truck to my house to pick up my household items. (Alas, they never want to pick up the truly unwanted items such as dust bunnies, water-stained ceiling tile, or the musty old suitcases in the storage closet. They only want things like my food processor or my second-best reading lamp.)

The other day, however, I received an actual, shiny, red-white-and-blue AARP membership card, albeit temporary, which is still lying on my desk, tempting me. If I reply within a month and send them sixteen bucks I will be able to take advantage of their many, but vaguely described, benefits including “Representation in Washington and all 50 states.” Sorry, AARP, I don't find that compelling as I really feel I have enough lollygagging, thick-headed, pork-barreling representation in those quarters already.

There is something that tempts me, though.  If I register NOW I will GET A BONUS GIFT. “As a 'thank you' for joining, we'll send you a FREE added bonus—this handy Dashboard Buddy.” A Dashboard Buddy! Who could resist? Doesn't everyone need a Dashboard Buddy? Yes! Yes! It's free. I want it. I need it. Wait! Wait! What the heck IS a “Dashboard Buddy?” (AARP Health Advisory: Excess emphasis and unnecessary “punctuation” IS catching, and there is, as yet, no preventative vaccine.)

It is hard to tell about the DB, because the far from luscious photo isn't very crisp and it's in Black and White because, of course, all Golden Agers are “nostalgic” for the days Black and White. Days when you didn't need to worry if you were the four billionth person to view Gangnam Style instead of the first, and you only watched it because you thought it was someone dancing “The Pony” which you danced when you were thirteen or fourteen and wishing you had white go-go boots and lived next door to Fabian. The days before you needed a handy Dashboard Buddy which appears to be a cosmetic bag missing half of its front panel which is handy for keeping needed items at hand and handily in view on your dashboard. Items like lozenges, or are those coins? A garage door opener, or is that one of those one-function phones with really big numbers on it? Why, the DB looks big enough for stashing a bottle of fiber pills or a slim-profile geriatric diaper. To give AARP credit, they must think I am young enough to own a dashboard, which I assumed was a car dashboard, but maybe “Buddy”is for the dashboard of the electric scooter with a basket thing you ride around on in the grocery store.

Dearest AARP, thank you for thinking of me and my needs for representation and handiness, but I am getting into my de-accessioning years, and unless I can opt out of this amazing free gift, I don't think I can join right now. Maybe later I will crave something drool-proof, an item of durable, easy to clean denier nylon construction which I can use on my seat or the floor of the trunk into which my family has tucked me. I do not deny that I am well into your target demographic. I am over the dreaded hill. I have entered, if not quite embraced, my geezerhood. I have installed klieg-level lightbulbs in my reading lamp. There are plenty of days in which I feel older than dirt, and every day I hear, if not the mermaids, then the one or two lines of poetry I can remember:

I will wear my trousers rolled, of course, because my dwindling butt has made all of my trousers droop and drag along the floor, threatening to trip me up unless I wear a pair of nice thick-soled comfort shoes. And, wearing my rolled trousers, I will blog for you.

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