the Walnut Diary

Someone called me old yesterday. It came as a shock. I was in Ottawa to pick up a load of scaffold for the new garage project and the owner was working out my bill, in longhand. He’s about my age.

He looked up and asked, “Why are so many old guys like you still working?”

“I’m retired,” I countered.

“I know, but you keep working. A lot of you come in here to buy scaffold and take on big projects. Last week I sold an order to a man from Montreal who is 81 years old. He’s starting a house.”

So that was it. This well-meaning business owner who used a pen rather than a computer had lumped me in with an 81-year-old. At the tender age of 60 I have finally bridged the generation gap.