As we were getting ready to leave the Assisted Living facility last night, a busload of fourth graders invaded the building, bearing flowers, singing songs, spreading cheer, and passing out homemade greeting cards. My wife was in the room with her 96-years young mother, while I was in the hallway chatting with my son and his family on the phone. As I hung-up and walked back into the room, a young student handed me a crudely printed card that said, “Don’t Give Up.” She obviously thought I was another grey-haired resident that needed support, while I was lost for words. How do you explain to a young child that you’re not old, when she sees you differently?

I hope I don’t give up…yet. Saying that I’m only 66 would seem like an ancient ancestor to a nine to ten year old. I’m sure they all thought that I was just a few years younger than my mother-in-law, who was once a fourth grade teacher, and the mother of my younger wife that once attended their school. No elementary math class could have prepared them to understand the age differences between their elders. Kids two years older are in another school, and toddlers half their age aren’t even in school. How does a youngster’s mind work these days in trying to comprehend age?

I accepted my card graciously, but it sure made me feel old and helpless. No one else defended me. Instead they just laughed and handed me an application to get on the lengthy Assisted Living waiting list. It is a popular place, that is very professionally operated, so it may very well take a few years to get in. “Don’t Give Up” – they’ll urge me – “someday this dream could all be yours.” Apparently, at least one fourth grader thinks I’m ready.