On July 9, 1948, Satchel Paige, already a legend in the Negro Leagues, made his Major League debut with the Cleveland Indians amid much speculation about his age.
Paige confessed to being 40 and was at least 42, although many believed he was older than that.
Ever the showman, Paige was coy about the subject.
“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?” he responded.
There is a lot packed into that quip. At its core, the quote encourages us to imagine a world where we are not bound by the societal expectations attached to our chronological age, but instead are able to embrace the freedom of perpetual youth, if not in body, in spirit.
For most of my life, I’ve always believed myself to be younger than I am, despite all the evidence to the contrary. For example, I no longer make purchases of items on bottom shelves, and I am sometimes startled by my own image in a mirror.
But I always imagined myself younger than I am, even if it’s only a little younger.
Until recently, that is.
I remember laughing at how gullible old folks could be and how easy a mark they were for grifters, televangelists and fly-by-night schemes and dubious offers. They were easily confused and exploited.
But now I find myself at the mercy of those whose intentions are not in my best interest. This is especially true with technology. For a long time, I could accept, learn and embrace it enough to be functional. But I find in recent years advancing technology has started to elude me. It confuses and frustrates me and I’m easy pickings for all sorts of things that prey upon my confusion.
That’s probably why my phone has more viruses than a Robert Kennedy Jr. barbecue, most of them from companies promoting anti-virus apps. Each anti-virus app considers the other anti-virus app is a virus – the snake swallowing its tail. The result is that my phone functions at the same speed as a dial-up AOL account circa 1990.
Then there are the internet offers that keep popping up on my social media accounts.
Since all of my information has been floating unfettered in the internet ether, marketers are well aware of my vulnerabilities.
But I’m starting to fight back a little.
So when an unsuspecting retailer informed me about a “special offer,” I was ready.
This company is offering a super-dooper discount on its fine product. Of course, not just anybody could qualify for a discount this amazing. That would be crazy.
So, as a way to separate the wheat from the chaff, the company came up with a quiz to determine who is worthy. All you have to do is call this tollfree number and tell the operator the name of an animal that lays eggs but isn’t a bird.
Well, isn’t that a stumper? An animal that lays eggs that isn’t a bird? How could this be?
This looked like a good opportunity to have a little fun at the company’s expense, so I called the number. Here’s the transcript of my call:
Operator: Thank you for calling. Do you have the answer to the question, “What is the name of an animal that lays eggs, but isn’t a bird?”
Me: Is it Alice?
Operator: Wait. What? I don’t think you understand. It’s what kind of animal lays eggs but isn’t a bird. See? Try again.
Me: Oh, I see. Is it an eagle then?
Operator: Sorry. Eagles lay eggs but they are birds. Try again.
Me: A turtledove?
Operator: Close! You might say you’re half-right. I got a feeling you’re gonna get it this time!
Me: Hmm. I see where this is going now. It’s a dove, right?
Operator: I hate my life.
Me: Wildebeest?
Operator: Really? That’s your answer?
Me: An amoeba?
DIAL TONE
OK, So I didn’t get the discount. But I did get to act my age.
I consider that a victory for the new old me.
Slim Smith is a columnist and feature writer for The Dispatch. His email address is [email protected].
Slim Smith is a columnist and feature writer for The Dispatch. His email address is [email protected].
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