As we age, things change. I no longer garnish my corn flakes with jelly beans. The onions that I used to hunt down and hide under my plate are now something that I use frequently in my cooking. I hate to admit the fact that I haven’t read a comic book for a great many years; they’ve been replaced by hard-covered books of all sizes and shapes, covering a great many diverse topics. I’ve always read newspapers, but my focus has shifted from high school team scores and school menus to articles on senior health, and I now read the obituaries, checking first for my name and then, for anybody I may have known. Planning a shopping trip now takes whether or not the store has a restroom into consideration, something that never crossed my mind in earlier years.

I find myself reading the nutritional information on all the products I pick up in the supermarket. I’m not the only one; the aisles are full of older folks, reading glasses perched on their nose ends or arms extended to full lengths because they forgot their reading glasses. In earlier days, when these labels first came out, I read them to find out how many calories the product contained. Those were the days when rippling abs were something to be sought after. I no longer worry about such things; my abs long ago became flabs and the desire for the body of a weight lifter has been replaced with a knowledge that almost everyone thinks that The Pillsbury Dough Boy is really cute, and this shape requires less sweating and more snacking. Caloric information aside, most older folks are more interested in the amount of sodium or sugar in a product. Cholesterol and trans fats are of interest. We tend to be more interested in looking alive than in looking good. I’m glad that they list all the minerals and vitamins to be found in the item since they are now of interest to me. These are to be found usually after the line, “daily adult minimum requirement.