Time marches on; clock keeps spinning

By Jan Penton-Miller
Columnist
Mike and I have been deep into a house restoration project, and I have run to Home Depot so
many times I should have stock in the store. The other day I was on one of my supply runs to
purchase paint. I spent a little time perusing the colors and struck up a conversation with a
painter who gave me some good advice.
After deciding on the colors I purchased a five-gallon bucket of ceiling paint and a gallon of trim
paint. The cashier graciously called for someone to help me put the paint in my trunk. He was a
younger guy and lifted that paint like it weighed almost nothing.
“Thanks so much for your help. I really appreciate it!”
“No problem, sweetheart. I was glad to help.”
That’s when it hit me. Oh, no! He isn’t calling me sweetheart because he thinks I’m cute; it’s
because I’m not young. I won’t say the “O” word. Then after I thought about it for a minute I
changed my mind. It could have been that I was not so young, but still cute. I’m going with that
anyway.
I had just gotten my mind straight from this little episode when I decided to stop by McDonalds
for a snack. When it was my turn I rummaged through my wallet to get the correct change to
pay the bill. This time the cashier was a young lady who grinned back and said, “Thank you,
sweetheart.” I had to chuckle at this and just be happy that it was a beautiful day.
Time does march on, but for those of us that have been around for a while that clock seems to
be spinning faster and faster. It’s so funny that at one time I thought people in their sixties were
ancient, and now that I’m one of them I still feel young.
We are all so different. My sweet grandmother, Mamaw, never was one to fix up much. She
loved to cook and eat and her waistline showed it. I never once heard her say anything about
going on a diet.
She wore her hair pulled back in a bun and let it go gray. She was always neat and clean, of
course, but she never seemed to care much about trying to look pretty.
Mamaw was happiest either reading a book or in her garden. If I had to choose one or the other
I would probably say her garden would win out. She absolutely loved this time of year when she
could finally get out and plant both her flower and vegetable gardens.

I can still see her leaning against her hoe surrounded by an array of colorful blossoms, and yes,
she was a sweetheart.

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