It’s amazing that sometimes when we really reach back into our memory bank, we can actually feel  the emotions we had at different happenings in our life.  I specifically remember how I felt the day I got my social security number and my working papers.  I was 16 years old and in my mind I had left the house that day as a child, and returned home all grown up with my social security card in my wallet, and working papers.   I can remember the excitement I felt and remarked to my Aunt that I had gotten the best number.  She asked what it was, thinking it may be something unique like 123-45-6789.  When I told her the number,  she laughed and  looked at me with a very  puzzled look on her face, because there didn’t seem to be any rhyme nor reason to the numbers.   She asked what made it the best, and without hesitating,  I said because it is mine.    To me that number was a right of passage,  I now entered the adult world,  I  could now go to work,  no more babysitting for me.  I  also said something else that day that I have thought of many times over the years.   In still talking about my number,  I said a very nice OLDER  person gave it to me.   With the emphasis being on OLDER,  she inquired, how old?   About your age, I innocently said.  She gasped and said, I am only 51,  I am not old.  I was really confused as 51 was old to me,  luckily I realized there was no way I could make this better, so I said nothing.  But over the years I have thought of that conversation;  when I turned 50 and  especially now when I say someone is young and they are in their 60’s.   51?  Teenagers.