Riding home from the central library last night on the Green Line, my young fellow travelers reminded me that, regardless of how young I feel, the world sees something different.
I climbed aboard a packed trolley car on a wind-whipped, rainy day and squeezed my way through college students and young professionals carrying dripping umbrellas and backpacks. A woman jumped to her feet and offered me her seat.
Old lady comin' through. For God sakes, somebody let her sit down!
Having spent the whole day seated on a wooden library chair, I thanked her and declined.
Another old lady, maybe mid-40s, looked a little worried as she studied the route map.
Spotting the other old lady in the car [that was me], a glimmer of hope lit up in her eyes.
"Do you know the stop for Kendrick Hospital?" she asked.
Boston has dozens of hospitals, but I'd never heard of that one. Sorry, I said with what I hoped was a kind smile.
All around me, the iPhones and similar contraptions came out, and the thumbs were flying. Somebody called up a map and showed the lady where the hospital was.
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