After I announced “senior” to the young male attendant, barely 20, at the entrance to Crescent Beach State Park, he gave me a thumbs up. I hoped he meant it was good to go, rather than it was good to be a senior. But then I thought, “Why isn’t it good to be a senior, particularly on this day?” I didn’t have to work, it was a beautiful beach day, and it was free admission.

Like most Baby Boomers, I never saw myself becoming over 60. Actually I still don’t until I see myself on the selfies I accidentally took or on Zoom. Can this aging woman actually be me?

Then come the reminders from the doctors’ offices after surgeries, the same message. “When you are older, it takes longer to heal.” But don’t patients in their 80s and 90s get joint replacements?

And there is the frequent feeling that I have become invisible to people. At least to most, but apparently not to the 2-year-old girl who befriended me at Willard Beach one day and then recognized me on another day at Crescent.

I like the senior discounts I receive at stores, movie theaters, coffee shops, state parks and museums, and the best perk of all, free tuition at University of Southern Maine.

“One oldie,” my mother used to say at a ticket booth.

I don’t say that, but in my early 60’s, I wasn’t always asked if I were a senior. Most times now, the discount is automatically given.

When I have sold tickets at athletic events at South Portland High, I don’t usually ask the attendees if they are seniors as they usually disclose it. However, one time a man just stood there, so I asked and he answered, somewhat disgusted, “Hell, lady, I was a senior 20 years ago!”

I don’t feel I have yet earned the privilege to say whatever I want, but I do try to take things other people say less personally.

I don’t concern myself about trying to look young. Realistically, elastic waistbands seem to be the way to go, and I’m okay with some grey showing in my hair. I do try to stay alert, not easy in these strange times, and keep healthy.

The music I listen to is from the 60’s. My students used to tell me they listened to that same music as they had grown up hearing their parents play it.

When in traffic and I hear a 60’s band blaring loudly from a sports car or a convertible, I look over, and the driver is usually a senior citizen. Like me, this person has finally bought his/her dream car although my Fiat is not the Lamborghini I envisioned.

Having some friends who are younger helps keep me up to date and having much older friends keeps me grounded.

One real comfort is that I don’t have to move to Maine to retire since I’m already here.

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