I resisted going to the Altadena Senior Center. Why would I want to hang around a bunch of old folks? Then one morning my body reminded me that I was, in fact, over three score and a decade years old. (For those under two score and ten, I’ll spare you the math: one score is twenty, plus a decade makes seventy.).
So I went to the Center. They took my picture, handed me a badge, and pointed me toward the gym.
I was impressed the first time I walked into the fitness room. It was outfitted with free weights, weight machines, stationary bikes, stair climber, treadmills and other equipment that rivaled Gold’s Gym.
Part of me hoped someone would say, “This isn’t for you, young fella—this is for senior citizens.” Instead, I just got the “Who’s the new guy?” look.
When I returned to paint Altadena Senior Center post Eaton Fire, the fitness center was the only structure standing. The stairway, twisted and charred, didn’t quite make it to heaven. The fireplace lived up to its name and reputation, as did fireplaces throughout Altadena. They stood up to the fire.