Sometimes I Feel Smart and Sometimes Like a Nut

I dropped by the American Legion late Tuesday afternoon  and had a beer with friends.   A couple of notes:
 

Four of us were sitting at a table drinking our beers near the exit door.  A man leaving paused at the door, looked at us and said, "Thank you!"  And he left.

One of us said, "Why did he thank us?"

Another one of us, shrugged.

I had it.  I said, "Well, we are in the American Legion and it is a place for Veterans.  We served our country."

"Oooooooh" they said nodding.
We should have returned the thanks, after all, he was there too.

One of  the four men sitting with us used to be the life guard at Larry Bell Park Swimming Pool.  His name is Charles.   He said he celebrated his 80th birthday last  Saturday.  Well, I knew he was several years older than I, because he was an adult lifeguard  when I was in my preteen years.  It just never occurred  to me he was as old as 80, he didn't look it at all.  In fact, if someone said he was 65 I would think he looked young for his age.  And another thing amazing is his memory is so sharp.  He told of an instance when he was applying for a beer license when he was the manager of the Market Basket in the  1950s.  He told the names of the people on the board that approved the beer licenses and he remembered the city councilman Gene Holcomb who was there at the time.  I thought that was remarkable that remembered such details.

Then I asked Charles how his daughter was doing that worked at the post office for about a year.  He had to think for a few seconds and said he forgot she worked for the post office.  He said she quit because she couldn't get a daytime job at the post office.   i told him I know how that was.

 I was feeling a little smug because I remembered something about his daughter that he had forgotten.

Then, we got back talking about Gene Holcomb.   Gene's son Larry Holcomb died in 2000.  One of us said Larry was a young man when he died.

Then I said, "He wasn't that young."  I went on to say Larry and I are/were the age.  I said he died in the year 2000.  I went on to say  this is 2013, so that was 13 years ago.  They were with me so far... and I said, "I'm 75, so that makes him about 62 when he died."  Nobody said anything.  In fact, they all were  unusually silent.  Then, Jack said, "I didn't know you were 75?"

I am not 75, I am 71.  Why did I say 75? 

Well, shit!