This week I took my second step toward official geezerdom. I took my initial step (I am tempted to call it my "baby step" but how inappropriate that would be!) five years ago, after I turned fifty. That's when I participated in the traditional American coming-of-advanced-age ritual, the first free coffee at Wal-Mart.

On Tuesday, when I trundled my groceries up to the checkout, the clerk (who was more ancient even than I) asked if I was 55? I had, in fact, "celebrated" that very birthday last month. On learning she'd guessed correctly that I had one foot in the grave, she gave me $7 off my order. Some consolation.

After I got home it started to worry me. I've never looked my age. She hadn't so much as asked to see an ID. Heck, I was carded, buying beer, when I was forty. Well, that grocery store clerk was about eleven and probably thought anyone over the age of puberty was Methuselah, but still....

Then a happy thought occurred. "Wait a minute," I told Mary. "Tuesday is senior citizens discount day at the store! That's why she asked."

That and maybe all my the gray in my hair and the white in my beard.

There are six other days in the week to shop. I think I'll start going on Thursdays instead. When I am an old man I will not buy groceries on Tuesday.