I was in the grocery store picking up some fruit, in that musing, detached condition of a person not anticipating human interaction, when I was surprised by an elderly fellow smiling and winking at me. Startled, I smiled back, and continued through the store. There he was again in the dairy section, smiling, leering, winking like a camera shutter, and, doubling back to get some bread, there he was by the English muffins, smiling, winking. My goodness. Then today, I was standing in the line for coffee, deep in thought, when I heard someone say "Boy you shure are pretty!" to the counter girl, and there was Captain Winky McLeersalot again! He didn't notice me, transfixed as he was on the counter girl, but in spite of his non-participation in contemporary social mores, he seems like a sweet, harmless fellow. I bet he is really lonely.
Then there's a woman who is a little bit nuts -- OK, more than a little bit nuts -- who is in her 70s or 80s and wanders up and down Davie street with the trampiest clothes on: tiny miniskirts, thigh-high spike-heeled boots, her shirt completely unbuttoned, sometimes wearing just her underwear. I saw her again yesterday, in the coffee shop, dressed normally, her acute trollopitis apparently in remission. I knew woman in college who was bipolar who behaved in a similar way whenever she was having a manic episode. She'd stop taking her meds, and the next thing you knew she was tossing her clothes off in the cafeteria.
Having worked in a nursing home when I was young, I long ago left behind the notion that old age is a venerable estate, full of dignity, long case clocks, pipe-smoking, cravats and acting like John Gielgud. The biggest tragedy is how our culture has become so stratified by age, and how old people have been shunted aside. Whenever I would go visit my relatives in the Philippines, there would be big dinners every night, and 4 generations would be present, often all living together in one house; here that just doesn't happen. At least Captain Winky is out in the world, smiling at pretty girls -- though it's debatable whether or not our geriatric floozy is better off. Some of the people at the nursing home had just been warehoused there by their families, who never gave them another thought, and never came to visit. It was one of the saddest places in the world.