Old People’s Houses

Remember going to old people’s houses when you were a kid?  They were dark and dreary, smelled musty.  There was no reading material for kids.  Worst of all, there were no toys to play with.

Lace curtains covered the windows–which were never opened.  Something to do with bad air.  Hand crocheted lace doilies covered stuffed chair arms and headrests.  They always fell down when kids got restless.  What good were doilies–anyway?  Playing with them always got you in trouble.

Old people liked to sit around and talk.  Talked about boring stuff and the good old days.  When a dollar bought something, and people knew the value of hard work.

Fidgeting didn’t work.  Neither did the sad-eyed, “can we go now, mom?”  Too much fidgeting brought the rapier-sharp “death stare” and the excuse, “you didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

Their pets were old–too.  Old dogs or cats, half-blind or deaf.  They sat on their owner’s laps and didn’t do much.  Old people seemed to know if they needed something.

The truth–old people were tired.  Tired of being sick.  Tired of being taken for granted.  Tired of disrespect.  Tired of being thought of as just being old.


Author: warturoadam77p

70 year old married retired communications worker with three grown children, transplanted from the Midwest to the sunny Gulf Coast.

10 thoughts on “Old People’s Houses”

  1. Perfect description. When we were growing up in Dunlap, Illinois (pop. 500 at the time) this exact house was across the street from us. The lady was usually on her front porch crocheting those doilies.

  2. I do remember this and also vowing I would never let that happen to me. I am creeping up on old age and have a couple of aging pets, but staying active and have a supply of toys for kids!

  3. Adam, it’s all about ATTITUDE. If we continue to get up in the morning, have things to do, thoughts to express, new things to learn… we don’t ever get “OLD”. My current “Life Commandment” is:
    I let the doctors take care of my body,
    I let God take care of my life,
    And all I have to worry about is my “attitude”.
    Every day is a blessing.
    (I’m over 70 and proud of it.)

    1. Judy, I apologize for giving you short shrift last evening. You deserved a better response. I value your opinions. This post was excerpted from childhood memoirs of visiting relatives and family friends. The serious part–that we didn’t know then, was that depression ran in the family. I’ll be 69 this year, and am mindful of the importance of maintaining one’s physical and mental health.

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