From a Wall Street Journal commentary by Gerald Eskenazi headlined “I’m Nearly 87, but Don’t Call me ‘Old Man'”

‘Hey! Old man!”

I looked up. I was alone at the curb. The guy was yelling at me.

Yes, I was the old man, and he was warning me to watch out for cars, that I was getting too close to the curb.

And I’ve been thinking since: When did I become an old man, and what do others think of me now? That I am too feeble to realize where I am? Is this what people think of the elderly? Do they look at people running for president the same way? Or maybe someone who has just gotten into a car accident?