Confronting My Own Ageism

Viewed from behind, the man appeared to be headless. There were his khaki pants, his white shirt neatly tucked in, a cane swinging as he walked, but where his head should have been there was only his collar. As we drove by him and I turned to look again, I saw that he was so badly bent over from the shoulders that he was looking straight at the ground as he walked.

And the first thing I thought of was, I bet he was handsome when he was young. Maybe he played ball and drove a fast car. He was probably trim like he is now, one of those guys who can wear their wedding suit fifty years later. I reflected on the bent over man being young and I felt sorry for him. And then as fast as I felt sorry for him, I felt sorry for myself. It’s…