Five Routine Minutes: My AARP Card Arrives.Posted: June 10, 2011
As I sorted through the mail the other day, I tossed an envelope that said “card enclosed” to the side and was about to shred it on the assumption that it was another credit card offer. On my way to the shredder, I realized that the envelope contained my AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) card. I am aware that I am aging, but it is quite another thing to have that fact confirmed by an organization whose business it is to know of such things.(If they were alive, The Ramones would be in AARP now. Gabba Gabba, we accept you, one of us.)
When I started to come to grips with what I had in my hand, I did what any reasonable person would do. I texted a picture of it, along with an obscenity, to some friends. Then I realized that most of the people I sent it to already have their AARP cards, two of them got one this year. Another is really old and frail.
Getting an AARP card is as much a rite of passage as getting a driver’s license. A lot of privileges come with membership in the organization and with being (not quite) fifty years old. Now I am in the same club as some of my friends, my parents, and Bruce Springsteen. Clearly this is improving my lot, while not necessarily doing the same for them.
My membership in that group of wise and esteemed people is now official. It’s not the lines in my face, or the gray in what’s left of my hair that helps me cross the line to being part of that group. It is the card that does it. With that card in my pocket I feel empowered to make all of you the first group to whom I will say…