Tag: aging

Friday’s Theme Music

Looked in the mirror this morning…

Yeah, big mistake. Reminder: never look in the mirror before medicating with coffee, Michael.

My father’s image started replacing my image about ten years ago; now his father is replacing his image in my mirror. After reflecting on that (hah! get it? yeah, I thought you did), I drifted toward the day’s beginning where the cats awaited the feeding rituals. Thinking about what needed to be done today and tomorrow, I drifted toward a spot of sunshine peeking over mountain, and through the trees and window. With that, a 1979 Kinks song flushed into the stream.

Woke up this morning, started to sneeze
I had a cigarette and a cup of tea
I looked in the mirror what did I see
A nine stone weakling with knobbly knees

I did my knees bend press ups touch my toes
I had another sneeze and I blew my nose
I looked in the mirror at my pigeon chest
I had to put on my clothes because it made me depressed

Surely there must be a way
For me to change the shape I’m in
Dissatisfied is what I am
I want to be a better man

Superman, Superman, wish I could fly like Superman

h/t to Genius.com cuz’ cut and paste is easier than typing.

Here’s the song, “(Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman”. Dig that bass line.

 

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Unforgotten

Memories,

I make them now,

so far my brain hasn’t forgotten how.

Time shoots by in a quickening blast

and I recall with fondness a nebulous past.

Starry-eyed and glittery mind, I used to look ahead.

Now, sometimes, it’s wearying getting out of bed.

My oceans of thoughts seem dark but calm,

a prelude, or harbinger, of a once-remembered song.

I seek comfort, I seek reminders, I seek the past,

even though I know, like the future,

it never lasts.

 

 

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Eye Drops

Leaning back, he let loose with one drop, shifted to the other eye and let drop again, as he’d done every day for decades.

After a moment, he realized he’d dropped both into his mouth, and laughed. How silly he was getting as he got older.

It wasn’t so funny the next time he did it.

But the third time…well, the third time, it wasn’t even noticed.

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The Manual

A new hitch in his giddy-up manifested in his hip when he rose for the morning and stumbled from his bed to his bathroom. Muttering to himself, to which his cat and dog paid no attention, he went about the business of feeding the cat and dog, opening the blinds and checking the weather (looked cold, looked like snow), and made coffee. With the coffee done, he went into the other room with it, turned on his computer, and then pulled his Owner’s Manual from his desk drawer.

“Trouble-shooting,” he said. The book automatically opened to that curled and worn, wine and coffee-stained page that marked the section’s beginning. He expertly flipped the pages, perusing them until he found, “Hip,” “Pain,” and “Stiffness”. Following the instructions, he turned to page one seventy-nine, “Routine Repair for Stiff Hips”. After reading the three paragraphs, he sipped his coffee and smiled.

It was easy enough to fix. He’d do it after he finished his coffee.

Fondly he regarded his Owner’s Manual. Best thing that he’d ever found on the ‘net.

Best twenty dollars ever spent.

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Rude Interruption

I was sitting and chatting with a friend the other day when my body said, “Pee.”

“Excuse me,” I told my body, “but that was very ru — ”

“Pee!”

“I was talki — ”

“PEEEE!”

“What are you saying? It sounds li — ”

“PEEEE!”

“In a minute. Let me finish this conver — ”

“PEEEEEE!!!”

Sighing, I stood. “Excuse me a minute,” I told my friend, and went off to the restroom.

Honestly, sometimes my body is like a spoiled, willful child, and it gets worse as I get older.

 

3

Multi-tasking

I was having drinks with a friend the other night. Frank is fully twenty-three years older than me, putting him in his mid-eighties. A retired professor and writer, he’s good company.

So it wasn’t surprising that we were ribbing each other and laughing when he suddenly sneezed and loudly farted. My reaction was to ask, “Frank, are you all right?”

“You notice that?” he said. “I did four things simultaneously.”

Before I could think more or speak, he said, “I laughed, sneezed, farted, and peed all at the same time. Now that’s multi-tasking.” Standing, he added, “Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom.”

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No Problem

Showered, shaved, and coiffed, the finishing touch was required, the SPF 50 UV A/B blocker that would allow him to enjoy the sunny day while he rode his bike down to have coffee (and maybe a doughnut) with his friends.

But it wasn’t in its proper location among his essential toilet vials and tubes. Probably because he’d put it away in the wrong place yesterday, silly git. Each drawer was opened, searched, and closed, and then again because it must be in one of those drawers and he was just overlooking it.

Or it was on the tray where he keeps his stuff on the counter, knocked over, perhaps, or out of sight behind something else – hard to believe, because that tube is orange and yellow and the rest on there are green, black, or white — except the Trader Joe’s moisturizing shave cream that he uses (which is also an orange tube) — but the little bastard of suntan stuff wasn’t there, where it should be. So he must have carried it off somewhere, yes, probably while feeding the dog, or playing with the dog, or something with the dog, or maybe — did he get interrupted while he was applying it yesterday? There’d been one day when he’d had a phone call — which day? Who’d called? Someone had called. What day had that been?

Christ, he couldn’t remember anything. Maybe, maybe it’d had happened – yesterday? But — maybe he hadn’t used the suntan lotion yesterday. Had he used the suntan lotion yesterday? He didn’t remember, he couldn’t remember. Well, assume that he’d been using it and had gotten interrupted or had carried it off absent-mindedly — because that’s never happened — and put it down in another room, like the utility room – right, because that’s where the dog is fed — or the laundry room – no — or the other bathroom — no — or kitchen – NO.

Christ, had he thrown it away? Maybe he’d thrown it away by accident. Or maybe he’d put it into the freezer or recycled it or — or — whatever the hell people did when they were getting old and losing their mind. Maybe he was getting that thing, what? What’s it called? Alzheimer’s, Alzheimer’s. Was this his Still Alice moment? Maybe this was the onset of dementia — or maybe —

He saw his husband in the office. “You haven’t seen my suntan lotion, have you?”

“Yes, I used it yesterday. I was in a hurry and needed some, but I was out, so I grabbed yours and took it with me, and I left it in the car.” His husband smiled. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled back. “No problem.” Going out to the car, he chuckled at all the things he’d thought while he’d been searching – overreacting – 

Stopping at the car, he paused in thought.

Why the hell was out he out here?

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Older

I’ve noticed that as I’ve grown older, the span of years among my friends is much greater. I have several good friends who are older than my parents. That enlivens some conversations when I say, “Mom is getting older.”

I struggle with imagining having a friend who was twenty-five years older than me when I was, say, five, but if I wrote a novel about it, I’d probably call it, Her Oldest Friend.

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