Senior Citizenship

Senior Citizenship

Officially, I become a senior citizen today.

I turned 65.

From what my daughter said–and she was giving me professional information as a licensed social worker–I have become an ẹ̀rùjẹ̀jẹ̀ in the eye of the law in the US.

I’m like a baby now.

Can you imagine hurting a baby!

That’s the status I now have–you can’t hurt a Senior Citizen without the law throwing the book plus the dust jacket at you.

So, as Peter Tosh sang:

“If you wanna live

Treat me good.

If you wanna live,

I beg you, treat me good:

[Chorus] Co’s I’m like a walking razor

Don’t you watch my size

I’m dangerous

I said I’m dangerous….”

I am now 65.

Am I dangerous enough?

It’s the end of a journey.

And the beginning of another.


The picture shows me today after my zoom classes.

65 years ago, my mother would have taken one thousand pictures to plaster on social media after giving birth to me.

But not a single picture exists of that event.

It doesn’t matter.

What matters is my prayer to give the next generation a better world than I was handed 65 years ago.

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