An AARP invitation 27 years early, but flattering still

When I received an AARP membership offer in the mail last week, it triggered many feelings.

Yes, the brief existential crisis triggered by this reminder of my own mortality and the unstoppable passage of time was frightening.

But the card also sparked a little scene in my head of AARP as a much older person approaching me at a bar.

So here in its absurdity, is that scene put to paper:

Oh hi, AARP, nice to meet you, too.

What’s that? Oh, thank you. Yes, I’ll take Dewar’s, neat please.

Tell me, AARP – what was it that drew you over to me?

Is it my job? Yes, I work at a newspaper for a community of retired people, but I’m not one of them!

Is it that I love Werther’s Originals and Oreos? Because, yes, I see your point, but I don’t think that qualifies me for membership.

Or maybe it’s my love of jazz. Fair enough, I can see how that could mislead you but that’s really easy to explain … and wait a minute, is that “Stormy Weather” I hear the band playing?

Oh stop! I’m way too young for you – by 27 years, in fact.

… But that is one sweet-looking tote bag you’re offering. Maybe I can fudge the numbers a bit and sign up. I mean, you won’t tell – will you? It can be our little secret.

I mean, just think of all the caramel candies I could fit in there. Or how convenient it would be to carry books back from the library with that.
But, no! I see what you’re doing, and I’m nipping it in the bud right now! I can’t join you, AARP – what will my friends think? If they see us together it would be a scandal!

Well, actually, they’ll probably think we’re a perfect pair. After all, my first car was a white ‘96 Cadillac DeVille, so I guess you could say I’ve been a natural fit for a while. Even now, I’m still considered the “grandpa” of my group of friends.

Sure, they’ll tease me at first, but when I’m paying 20 percent less at the movies, we’ll see who gets the last laugh. I wonder if the discount applies during matinee hours. I like to get in before that mob of hoodlum kids with their pants down halfway to hell.

Kids these days…

Whoa, you’re good AARP. Are you hearing me right now? I’m not normally like this, I swear!

What, another drink? No I’m fine, but thanks.

Well, a whiskey sour does sound pretty good. But only if you’re buying. The discount’s good here, right?

But, no, this isn’t me. I sold that Cadillac and got a much more age-appropriate Hyundai. I’m tech-savvy, and I mean beyond just sending an email. Plus, some of the music I listen to – well, it may be a bit too loud for your tastes, and I don’t think you’d like all the lyrics.

So I’m flattered AARP, I really am. But I have to say no.

What’s that? Oh don’t get like that! It’s not a “forever” no. Because, believe me, if I wasn’t 27 years too young, the wild fun we’d be having together … we’d make Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz look tame by comparison.

And I’ll leave it at that. But give me a call in 2040, AARP. You’ll know where to find me.

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