Do 'Old Guys Rule'?

On a recent Thursday, I drive to our local grocery store, Harris-Teeter (HT), in Aberdeen NC. I usually major-shop there on Thursdays to cash in on a five percent Thursday-discount the place gives to folk over 60 years old.

I grab a shopping buggy from a cart-corral in the parking lot and venture into the “sto.” I lean on that cart to help keep my feet from hurting due to spinal stenosis.

I see mostly seniors shopping. The place isn’t too busy. I bee-line to the free-cookie stand that displays these words: “For kids of all ages (one per customer).” HT has me trained. I salivate when I hear the name “Harris-Teeter” … talk about “Pavlov’s dogs.”

I’m trying to lose weight, but I buy hotdog buns and bun-length wieners.  

A white-haired fellow with a northern accent asks an attendant, “Where are the brats?” (I figure he doesn’t mean his children). The clerk shows him some bloated-looking, hotdog-type things, and the white-haired fellow smiles.

I get orange juice and head toward the milk. An old guy is opening the door to the cow-juice. His wife, who wears glasses, is holding up, with her left hand, a full newspaper page that lists HT bargains. With her right hand, she holds – a few inches from the page – a large magnifying glass (with handle). She has her right eye near the magnifying glass. I smile and wait. They finally decide on the milk they want, and I snatch a gallon of “one percent.”

I procure other stuff and roll to checkout. Two people are ahead of me. In the checkout lane to my left sits a little girl in a special grocery cart. It’s made like a car and has a steering wheel. The blond-headed child is two or more years old, and she’s turning that steering wheel and having fun. She looks my way, smiles, and says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say, smiling.  

I can tell from her eyes that the youngster is a Down Syndrome child. She’s with her grandparents. They don’t seem to mind that I spoke to her. They chat with her and smile. Her grandparents are perhaps a little younger than I am. The gray-haired grandfather wears Bermuda shorts and white track shoes.

I begin thinking of some of the possible challenges the child in the cart will face – and of some tests and trials the child’s parents and grandparents may encounter. The grandparents and the child seem happy and appear to be enjoying their trip to the grocery store.

The grandfather turns to talk with his wife, and I see these words printed on the back of his T-shirt: “Old Guys Rule.”

I can’t help thinking, “Oh, dear fellow, if you could ‘rule’ and alter things that happen and ‘come your way’ in life, would you change your granddaughter?”

 
I don’t know that he would. But I know this: There are many, many things beyond his and my “rule” or control.