Armenians are authorities when it comes to purchasing quality lamb. We would not consider substituting mutton when making our khorovadz but this is not about what cuts of meat to look for in your supermarket. It’s about the art of growing old gracefully. Ouch!
“Mutton parading around as lamb” was a comment I first heard when vacationing in the homeland of an Irish girl friend of mine, she of the lilting Celtic brogue. As realtors, we had both had a lucrative year and she’d convinced me to accompany her to Dublin for a well-earned vacation.
It was my first trip across the pond to a country I had never thought of visiting. But as a lover of the outdoors and a confirmed shopaholic, Ireland fulfilled all of my dreams. Now I find myself wanting to return to the land of hills filled with purple flowering heather, wonderful handmade fishermen sweaters, and leprechauns.
My Dubliner friend Anne still owned the family home she grew up in, so it was a great opportunity to use it for exploring the countryside and big cities with a rented car. October offered fair weather with occasional interruptions of rainfall and rainbows.
Nothing prepared me for the Dublin pub crawl. The barkeep at O’Leary’s would stand on top of the counter and welcome each patron with endless Irish banter.
I loved Ireland, from the fresh seafood-filled waters and the Waterford Crystal Factory to the Blarney Stone and the Cliffs of Moher overlooking the Atlantic 400 feet below.
I was in love with the film “The Quiet Man” with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara, and fully expected to see the likes of Barry Fitzgerald inside Cohan’s drinking establishment. I did see the statue of Anna Livia, a character in James Joyce’s “Finnegans Wake,” affectionately nicknamed “the Floozie in the Jacuzzi” by Dubliners.
We were in downtown Dublin, where the clothing selections are wonderful, when Anne first used the mutton expression. We were witnessing a rather elderly lady making an unsuccessful attempt to look half her age with her attire. Her mishap was a reminder to grow old gracefully, take the process in stride so as not to illicit unkind comments.
Back in 2012, it has been a very boring post-Christmas period and I just washed and dried my longish hair thinking, “Should I or shouldn’t I.” Bangs looked great years ago; will they again? So I sat in front of my mirror and began snipping away until I got that desired fringe called “bangs.”
I have always been conservative but admired the women I saw with frizzed all over hairdo’s. Being in sales I thought it would be inappropriate. To this day, I regret not taking the plunge.
I remember my mother saying as she grew old, “I am at an age where I can say and do anything I want.” Nevertheless she remained her tactful self.
Well, the event with the scissors did not go well. One side was perfect while the other side was cut far too short. I looked goofy. “Mutton parading as lamb” came to mind and I laughed uproariously at the mirror reflection of myself. What had I done?
I decided to remain in hiding until the two sides of my age defying fringe were equal in length. I looked at a photo of when my hair was more reddish and the bangs looked attractive. The person looking back at me now was, well, somehow different. “Older?” you may venture to ask. To which I must honestly reply, “Yes.” But a survivor as well.
To compound the injury to my tresses, I received from cousin Lucy Sisoian in New Hampshire a list of places that offer senior discounts to those over 60. I was tactful in sending it off to friends with this statement: “I know you are not old enough (not true) to qualify for senior discounts yet, but when you do, you can avail yourself of this list which offers rewards to those of us who have reached that golden age.”
It wasn’t long before I received this message from videographer Hrayr Toukhanianz: “Years ago Sona and I were waiting in line at the Maple Theater. The person ahead of us asked for the senior discount (half the amount of the regular ticket price). Sona told me in Armenian that she is going to also ask for the senior discount. And she did. The cashier, without asking for her ID, gave Sona the discount. (I wish she had asked for an ID.) Entering the theater, Sona was just furious. She said to me, “Do I look that old?” Husbands know to approach that question cautiously.
I responded to Hrayr and told him of my first episode with senior discounts. Husband and I were paying for our restaurant bill when the person in front asked for the discount and Bob, hearing the conversation, followed suit. I was mortified. How dare he let the world know that I was with an older man? That older man was only four years older than me. My red face matched my glowering temper and when we reached the safety of the outside, I shot him this question: “Was it worth the small discount to embarrass me like that?”
He just looked at me and laughed. Remember what you learned in Ireland? “Mutton parading around as lamb”? Take what you can get at our age, and like it.
It was not long before I felt quite comfortable with the senior discount situation and never balked again. Now, if I can figure out a way to never pay income tax…
Live, love, laugh, and be happy, be it mutton or lamb.
Betty Apigian-Kessel
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I have always wondered about that expression, “mutton parading around as lamb.” I always thought it should be in reverse. I had a sheep farm for many years and raised several different breeds of sheep. I spin their wool into yarn, and then put it on my loom, and weave it into woolen cloth, which I then cut and sew and wear. I am very familiar with what both mutton and lamb parade around on their backs in different stages of growth. Trust me, no lamb has fleece as good to work with as “mutton” does. The older “mutton,” seasoned by time and weather, has developed longer, silkier fibre, more lanolin in it too, which offers her protection from the uncertainties of weather. Her fleece is seductive as it runs through your fingers on the spinning wheel. Mutton deserves to strut her stuff. The last sentence of your column, Serpouhie, is right on the mark. You can do that more readily if you go through life not giving a ba-a-a-a about what anyone thinks of what you’re wearing – or not – at any age. I find it very telling that this saying is always directed at women. I have never heard it applied to males. God knows the feminist in me hates to acknowledge this, but old rams actually do have the best fleece of all.
When I was about 45 years old, I went to buy a handbag from a department store.I took my selection to the cashier, a sweet teenager, and without a moment’s hesitation she asked “Senior discount?” I was upset for days that I at age 45 looked old enough to be a Senior. I finally consoled myself by realizing that to a teenager anyone over 30 is OLD.
Thanks for your enjoyable columns.
My mother and grandmother (both New Englanders of Yankee/English descent) used that phrase.
It’s NOT exclusive to Ireland, I assure you.