Invisible No More

   I'm used to having become one of the invisible people.  For years, no one has much noticed what I say or do.  At first it felt  rather insulting to have become so unnoticed, but gradually I got to kind of enjoy it, or at least appreciate the anonymity that movie stars and celebrities say they miss in life.  After all, President Obama said in a recent interview that what he missed most was being able to go for a walk and sit at a public cafe and observe people about him, without any attention on him.  But I think my status may have changed from being unnoticed, and not because of anything positive. Today I was trying to open the umbrella over a table at an outdoor eating place. I couldn't reach to push it up all the way, so I stood on the bench to try to push it up as far as it would go to engage the locking mechanism.  A man, another customer, came hurrying over to help me; he said he was afraid I was going to fall.  I didn't think I looked that frail; I would have had no problem if I'd been about two inches taller.  I do appreciate gallantry, from the not-so-young-himself man on a motorcycle, but how freakin' old  does a person have to look to be protected from opening an umbrella?   I'm afraid I know the answer to that.