My handicapped parking card By Leon Moss
This valued piece of plastic is worth my weight in gold. In this over-parked country even this stuckb onto your windshield doesn’t mean you’ll find a parking place. It came in the post a few days ago. Its expiry date is May 2026! The big question now is will my car, the faithful red Kia, last out? I’m not asking that question about myself. I am a 1933 model and the car is a 2026. I thought about running a bet on either myself or the car, or both, but I may not be here to collect my winnings. In any case what will I do with them?
One should never stop hoping, when it comes to age, especially old age. But one should always add “and in good health”. This morning the obituary notice on the board at the retirement home announced that Nessia had passed on. She was 103 and up to a few days ago nodded and smiled at friends and acquaintances as her Philippine caregiver wheeled her around every morning to her favorite window `place in the lounge.
The there was Yaakov, an old man who lived in our apartment block. We once exchanged ages and it turned out that he was about 10 years older than me, making him about 80 when this incident took place. The elevator stopped at his floor one morning and he entered the car. He had a beard. In Israel, anyone with a new beard is probably in mourning, but I had to make sure.
“Yaakov,” I said, “What’s with the beard?”
“My mother passed on,” he said.
“But Yaakov,” I practically yelled.
“I know, I know,” he answered.
“She was either 106 or 108, we were never sure!”