I’ve taken on a new moniker, several actually \u2013 Sweetie-pie \u2013 Honey \u2013 Dearie \u2013 Sweetheart \u2013 Peachy-pie \u2013 Cutie and the like. Every place I go, I’m a: Sweetie-pie\u201d person. It\u2019s an old man thing. For a long time, I was just an old guy, a \u201cSir,\u201d a \u201cMister,\u201d a \u201cSenior.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I accepted that persona over the years; I embraced my \u201cold guy\u201d designation and converted my internal identity. I referred to myself as the Old Coot, probably a little before I really needed to. I was an old coot prodigy. Now, without being aware of it, I’ve transitioned to a new level and have been inducted into the \u201csweetie-pie\u201d Club. [I Walk funny, I stumble a bit, I wobble, I operate with reduced muscle mass, I squint, I creak.] <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m a full-fledged old man and a full-fledged member of the \u201csweetie-pie\u201d club, a wrinkled, bent, object of sympathy (some call it pity). I\u2019m addressed as Sweetie-pie, and similar endearing terms. It\u2019s nice, on the surface, to be treated in this kindly fashion. It’s just that it snuck up on me when I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve thought of myself as an old coot for so long I didn’t notice this new phase until the curtains on life\u2019s stage pulled aside to reveal this new version of me to the audience. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s nothing new, this being surprised by life\u2019s passages. I was shocked in my early twenties when I started being addressed as Sir and Mister and Mister Lessler by people just a few years younger than me. My wife thought it was a riot, until she got called ma\u2019am for the first time. Now, I\u2019m surprised all over again, as the Misters have exited stage left and Sweetie-pie has taken center stage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
These life milestones come as a shock to most of us, but I\u2019m not going to complain about this Sweetie-pie stage of my life. The next designation is, \u201cThe late Mister Lessler.\u201d I won\u2019t be aware of it, but somehow, I\u2019ll still resent it. It\u2019s what old coots do; we slip off the stage, but our complaints live on forever. <\/p>\n\n\n\n