My post office box 205 (P.O.Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816) – I think these amazing letters ought to be a book one day  – was a feast this morning, letters from Arizona, California, South Dakota, Louisiana, Michigan and Canada. One that caught my eye was from Eunice Krecek of Morro Bay, California, she wrote me a wonderful letter to set me straight about my writing about age.

“So you think that you are an old man. I’m am going to state a different opinion. But I will not argue with you because i do not like to argue with anyone.  But here is my case for my point of view. People are living longer now than ever before, or so I’ve been told. You have stated many times that you are in your sixties, now I’m eighty-two. You see, if you are old, then what am I?

 ” I live in a nursing home and on of my roommates is 102. So if you are old, then what am I? And where does my room mate fit in at 102? I’ve enjoyed reading your books and now I am a daily reader of your blog. I am glad that you are writing about the elderly as we are so misunderstood. You have real winners here…”

Eunice, I am humbled and abashed, you are not a woman to be trifled with. I will not refer to myself any longer as old, nor will I refer to anyone else as being old. Old talk is creepy, you are right, and it means nothing. Some of the oldest farts I know are in their 30’s, some of the youngest spirits – I imagine you are one – are in their eighties.

Stereotyping people is just foolish, so why do it to myself?  I get it, and thank  you for straightening me out, you do not need to argue with me, I will do as I am told. I would not care to argue with you.

And thanks for writing me. I loved your letter, I love the letters from all over to my post office box, one of the best ideas I ever had. What a daily gift.

I read Eunice’s letter to Maria over the phone from the post office. “Wow,” she said. “How great. That will shut you up.” It will.

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You can write Maria and I at Post Office Box 205, Cambridge, N,Y. 12816.