A woman is worried about an older woman, a widow, who lives in the apartment next door. She hasn't heard anything from her for a few days.
So she tells her son, "I want you to go next door and see how ol' Mrs. Williams is."
A few minutes later, the boy returns.
"Well, is she all right?" the mother asks.
"She's fine, but she's annoyed with you," he says.
"At me? Whatever for?"
"Well," says her son, "Mrs. Williams told me it's none of your business how old she is."
On a wintry day, my 90-year-old father was in the supermarket trying to pay for his groceries. Bundled up against the cold, his gloved hands were having trouble retrieving and counting the exact change.
The transaction evidently took too long for the man behind him in line, who muttered a curse.
Dad stopped counting, turned around, and warned, “Be quiet or I’ll write a check.”
It was a typical noisy dinner at my parents’s home, and Dad was having trouble following the conversations. He kept jumping in with off-topic comments and asking for things to be repeated.
I finally told him he needed to get a hearing aid.
Looking at me as if I was crazy, he said, “What would I do with a hand grenade?”
An 85-year-old widow went on a blind date with a 90-year-old man.
When she returned to her daughter's house later that night, she seemed upset.
"What happened, mother?" the daughter asked.
"I had to slap his face three times!"
"You mean he got fresh?"
"No," she answered. "I had to wake him up. I thought he was dead!"