I don’t have any old personisms.
(Shakes fist at passing cloud.)
Don’t forget that the $2.50 candy bar is probably smaller than when it was 75 cents.
So are the cents. It all balances out. NOT!!!
A couple more pictures to put that phone booth in better context.
That’s @Seanette in the blue shirt. She appears thrice in the second picture, due to the manner in which I took each of these as multiple shots, and stitched them together to form a wider view.
The phone booth is at approximately 38°26’31.0"N 120°37’50.9"W. (Google Maps doesn’t seem to want to let me tag the location more exactly.)
In the first picture, @Seanette is standing just to the right of the phone booth, in the middle of the picture, facing it, while some other lady is walking past it.
I find I can’t bend down or stand up again without uttering “oof!”
What I noticed was that I started doing that when there was no obvious sensation I was "oof"ing to. I just made the noise for no apparent reason.
Speaking of standing up - I now know why we’re called Old Farts.
I meant 1812. Yes, we won some skirmishes, but it was also a stalemate. I was pointing out how it’s was counted as a US war victory until we faced murkier situations like Korea and Vietnam and couldn’t call ourselves undefeated anymore. Our win-loss record continues to need asterisks.
You know you’re getting old when you bend down to pick up something, and think: “what else can I do while I’m down here?”.
Getting up from the couch: “Oh my knees.” Crack.
I was about to say “well that’s because that’s what they do cost per can at vending machines and bodegas” and then realized that I haven’t actually bought an individual can of soda from the corner store since before 2020 ($1 per can was standard), so maybe they do cost more now and I don’t know it!
A phone booth saved my stupid ass. In 1978(?) I was camping with friends on Assateague Island. A tropical storm warning was in effect and many campers evacuated. We stayed, and were walking around when weather got really bad really fast.
Three of ass crammed into a phone booth and stayed there to ride out the worst of it, about 30 minutes. Our tent was destroyed but we had loaded everything else into our car.
I also have not bought an individual can of soda since 2020, but not for lack of trying. At least around here (Central Florida), I can’t find them anymore. They last were indeed priced around $1 for a 12 ouncer in the late 2010s, but for a couple years around 2020, they only sold cans that were larger than 12 ouncers for a comparable per-ounce price (i.e. around $2 for a 24 ounce can.)
Nowadays, it’s still around the same price per ounce, but the minimum has gone steadily up to around 32 ounces for around $3, and they are all plastic. There are aluminum cans in the cooler sections, but they contain energy drinks and beer.
In my experience, those little glass bottles are Mexican Coke which is made with cane sugar and is more expensive that regular Coke.
And is worth the extra coinage.
When I was in my last few years in .the Canadian Navy, which isn’t a large population by most standards, I have been able to say on a few occasions “Your father and I used to be shipmates”
A friend of mine is now about 75, so about 10 years older than I am. She’s also a sharp wit and always has been. One of her long-standing comebacks for putting young whipper-snappers in their place is:
Kid, I’ve got socks older than you.
I haven’t used that line yet for real, but I (and more importantly some of my socks) are getting to the age where I could use it on shop clerks, waitpersons, etc.
Oh my gosh. Yesterday a newly hired young lady complimented me on my sweater. I laughed and said, “This is my 1980’s vintage sweater!” She said, “Vintage, wow. How did you find it?” I laughed a little less, and said, “I’ve owned it since high school.”
When it still fits 45 years later you know you got it goin’ on, Honey. 
All that and no stains or moth-holes? You also know how to care for clothing. Vintage or otherwise.