Little Thoughts

Hi, fifi again, or almost. You will see I do not have the energy to present myself with initial caps. It is strictly lower case fifi today. And the reason? As usual, perfidy in other places. Someone has launched a rumor, only rumor, mind you, that I am the instigator, the perpetrator, of ghastly bodily sounds. Rumblings, so to speak. As we know by now, to be accused is to be found guilty. That is, after all, the basis for the Dreyfus Affair, non? My code of etiquette would not permit it. Possibly a small sneeze may be acceptable, but even that has become an obsolete possibility since the disappearance of handkerchiefs. A sneeze and a glimpse of a tissue is not the same thing at all.

I will recover my spirits, but it will take a little time. Which gives me the opportunity to share some tiny thoughts with you. I want to define what I see as my role in this interchange. It’s up to me (self-appointed, admittedly) to carry the flag for those on the more mature side of the population. You will note I shy away from using the word “older.” That’s because unless you were born this week, everyone is older than someone. I don’t approve of any of the words or phrases coined so far: elder, senior, who knows what? Therefore I had to improvise, to come up with a word that carries no historical baggage. No negativity at all. I have decreed that the word is Agents. I am the speaker for the Agents. Notice how subtly “age” is incorporated in it, but no one really knows what it means in this context, except me, and you if you have been paying really close attention. So the battle cry is Dignity to the Agents. Their time has come to show a little muscle. A little resilience if that image suits better. Enough cringing. I am feeling so empowered I can almost ignore the canards whistling round me. So Fifi and the Agents feeling the wind at their back. An historical moment, non?