Lughnasa New Moon (Harvest M00n)
Oil change today for the Celica, now at 255,000 miles and still nimble. Then a drive up to Elk River to buy straw.
The guy who runs Martie’s Feed and Seed is about my height, 5’7″, wears a ball cap like I do. I have maybe 15 years or so on him. As I went up to the counter, he said, “What can I do for you, young man?” Again, this young man. I seem to have reached a point where people find me in need of assurance that they still count me among the able, which, of course, in the perverse way of such assurances, does the opposite.
The mirror shows a gray haired, gray bearded guy with significant balding and some wrinkles. The Keatons, my mom’s side of the family, age early in the face and I’m no exception. This is another of those invisible border lines, reinforced by multiple responses. Soon, I’ll start thinking of myself as a “young man,” that is, an old man in need of a jocular boost from those in the know.
