At age 90, my Aunt Jean is a mover. Not a shaker though, because that would be undignified.
Aunt Jean is always on the go, on various committees, visiting folks in the hospital, looking in on the elderly her nieces and nephews and does it all with a quick step and in stylish attire.
Every month, the church she attends arranges for the seniors to go out for dinner together at a local dining establishment where Christian fellowship and merriment commence therein.
Last month, the senior coordinator selected a new place in town called Luce Wheels.
Cousin Cheryl, who lives in Tuna and is about my age, sometimes goes with Aunt Jean to these senior dinners using the excuse that she will drive her home after dark, but really we all know it’s because Aunt Jean is fun to hang out with.
When the seniors arrive at this new establishment, it turns out to be a biker bar.
No matter. All the seniors go in and enjoy a meal and then later some of the tattooed patrons were nice enough to show them how to play shuffleboard.
About 7:00pm, Cousin Cheryl turns to Aunt Jean, yawns pointedly and says, “Well, it’s getting late, I guess I better be getting you home.”
“Oh no,” Aunt Jean says, “I think I’d like to stay. The band is about to start.”
On second thought, maybe Aunt Jean is a shaker.