At ages 90 and 88, and not too spry, my husband and I very carefully made our way from the parking lot into the grocery store.
As we were checking out later, the cashier said, "I saw you two coming in and you looked so cute holding hands like honeymooners."
"Actually," I truthfully replied, "we were holding each other up!"
Margaret E. Lach
I've gotten used to the weekly, sometimes daily, question: "Where are you from?" Usually I let them guess and then stop them halfway through a litany of countries ranging across three or four continents and some island nations. Today, it's my cab driver asking. I tell him, "I'm Mexican American." He smiles widely in his rearview mirror and says, "I love Mexican people! Good food, good music, 10 people live same apartment." I shake my head and as I step out of the cab he shouts, "I know a lot about your people. My girlfriend is Peruvian!"
Grisella M. Martinez
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