Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

Tl/DR: It’s all about me. I’m a pretty self-centered peckerhead.

I’m still on Facebook. Yes, I know. It’s mostly to track friends who are now far away and keep up with family events. Those are both fading.

Got a friend request from a friend today. I’d met her on Red Room, where I used to post, and we continued our friendship on Green Room before I moved to WordPress.

Problem with the friend request was, we were already FB friends and she, a retired teacher, writer, and grandmother, died several years ago. I deleted the request.

Damn hacks.

WaPo headline: Swift charges against Georgia father mark a cultural shift on school shootings. Yes, but that’s not the cultural shift needed. I am pleased the father is being charged. I hope he is found accountable for his part in this tragedy. Unfortunately, the many politicians responsible for it will not be held accountable.

My wife and I had a conversation as we were running around doing errands on Thursday. I referenced the conversation. She looked blank. She remembered having it but not what it was about. I was also struggling to remember the details. A minute later, the details flooded back into my memory. I shared them with her and we went on. I would say that it was disturbing but this sort of thing has been going on for years. Memory is a tricky thing.

I have a foot issue. I’ve written about this before. My right ankle was sprained in May and again in June, rolling over each time. I eventually had an MRI and discovered a tendon was ruptured. I’ve been wearing various wraps and braces but they were dissatisfying. Something was needed, as the ankle felt unstable. I became incredibly mindful how it was placed and employed.

My wife talked me into getting a Bioskin TriLock brace. Been using it for three days. It’s providing needed stability and is reasonably comfortable. Putting it on properly does need practice and thought.

I’d noticed I was compensating for the injured foot. Other places were beginning to feel stressed and mis-aligned. These were just what was being noticed; imagine what was being damaged and stressed under the radar.

Seeing an ortho surgeon in a few weeks. We’ll see where it goes from there.

Happy Saturday.

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I have a nephew who is starting at the University of Pittsburgh this fall. He auditioned for the band as a trumpet player and was accepted, so he’s already moved into his dorm room so he can attend band camp. Yes, I am pleased and excited on his behalf, and I’m very proud of him.

Today, we found out that one of our friends here in Ashlandia has a niece starting college. Know where this is going? Yes, she’s attending the University of Pittsburgh. And she plays the trumpet. And she’s in the band. And she’s moved into her dorm room already because she’s attending band camp.

It’s like six degrees of separation all over again. Do you know the movie?

Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife related that she and her coffee group were talking about their required high school reading.

There’s a background to this. They go to StoneRidge Coffee in downtown Ashand after exercising at the Y three mornings a week. Their favorite barista, Shawn (sp?), had been on a big reading kick, reading many novels that we consider classics, like Catch 22 and Catcher in the Rye. Today he announced that he won’t be working there any longer because he’ll be teaching high school in Grants Pass. My wife’s group wondered if that’s why he’d been on a reading tear.

They couldn’t remember what they’d read in high school, though. They did recall that they had to read The Pearl by Steinbeck and several of Shakespeare’s plays. The only one they remembered reading was Romeo & Juliet.

After being told this, I recalled reading MacBeth and Hamlet. I also recalled reading The Red Badge of Courage, Beowulf, Call of the Wild, excerpts out of Dante’s Infernal (as we knew it in school) and The Red Pony. I mentioned that what I most remembered reading, though, were short stories. I vividly remember reading A Jury of Her Peers, The Girls at the A&P, The Visitor, Greenleaf, and The Lottery. They each made quite an impression on me. Besides that, there was some Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allan Poe, and then poems by Frost and Whitman, and essays out of Walden: Life in the Woods.

It’s all a bit sketch, though. Because I enjoyed reading fiction on my own and read Catch 22 and Catcher in the Rye. Papillion was big as a novel then — this was before the movie — as was the Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit, and Stranger in a Strange Land. Besides that stuff, I was reading a lot of science fiction and fantasy, along with spy thrillers (think Fleming and Le Carre). Then there was Jaws by Peter Benchley, and other popular fiction like that, such as Fear of Flying, Portnoy’s Complaint, In Cold Blood, The Onion Field, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Bell Jar, The Drifters, Centennial, The Thorn Birds, Hotel, Airport, The World According to Garp, Cancer Ward, and Herzog.

I was also involved with the Junior Great Books program for several years, and was required to read their books, stories, and essays, muddying up memory a little more. Further complicating it are courses in French, Russian, Jewish, and American literature in college.

All those books and titles start running together after a while, you know? At least for me. I admire those who can keep it all straight.

Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

We’re watching “Black Matter” on Apple TV. Don’t confuse it with “Dark Matters”. The plural of matters makes it a completely different matter.

This series is based on the Blake Crouch novel of the same name from 2016. We read the book back when it came out. Now it’s fun, trying to remember the novel’s plot and comparing it to what’s going on in the television job. Like a pop culture memory test.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffstained

Today is Thursday, May 23, 2024.

The weather has dialed it back a scooch. Only 65 F now, we’ll peak at only 80 F today in the Churchill Valley. Thunderstorms are suggested for later today but we didn’t get within sniffy distance of them yesterday. Was supposed to rain, too. Around 4 PM, I asked Alexa when it would rain. Alexa replied, “The rain will stop in a few minutes.”

That flabbergasted me. There was naught but sunshine and some towering cumulonimbus beast. We did eventually catch rain but that was after the sun’s show had gone over the horizon.

In personal news, Mom’s first cleaning service went well. Mom and the cleaner have known one another for over 20 years, and like each other. Kathy did an impressive job. I was pleased all around.

I’ve bought my tickets to return to Ashlandia at the end of next week.

One of last night’s dream featured my wife. We were both young and healthy, as it once was. The dream triggered The Neurons’ memories. They ended up inserting “I’ll Tumble 4 Ya” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dreamy). This was a Culture Club song. My wife likes it because it’s one of her exercise tunes, and the base of several jokes with her exercise instructor and fellow exercise mates.

Stay positive, remain strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. I have coffee spilling into the body. Here’s the video. Cheers

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

I dislike it when I encounter someone who raves about what a great memory I have, and how smart I am, and then denies what I heard them say just the day before.

Really shifts my impression of them.

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I read a NYTimes article about Dr. Richard Restak’s new book on aging. His new book is “The Complete Guide to Memory: The Science of Strengthening Your Mind.” The Times’ article’s title is “How to Prevent Memory Loss”, and that sums it up.

As I reach toward the end of my sixties, I think about memory loss, especially forgetfulness. Whenever a moment of forgetfulness strikes my wife or I, she tends to say, “We’re getting old.”

I dispute the idea that my forgetfulness is automatically a product of aging. I didn’t at first but then I began thinking back to previous episodes of forgetfulness in my life. I’ve had brain farts at one time or another, so I don’t think we should assign much importance to them now. Further, I think blaming it on aging is a sort of surrender that will propagate the myth and acceptance that my memory burps are all about aging.

For instance, if you will.

We’ve gone shopping without a list prepared and forgot to buy something. My partner’s almost kneejerk reaction is, “We’re getting old. We need to remember to make and take lists.”

Well, yes, dear, lists are useful. We learned that lesson forty years ago. That’s why we began using lists in the first place. So, it ain’t necessarily because we’re getting old now. It’s because, like those times in our youth when we forgot something, we were busy. We didn’t slow down to think. We let our mind wander from the task.

That’s almost exactly what Dr. Restak notes in his paragraph, “Some memory lapses are actually attention problems, not memory problems.”

That’s why I liked this article. Many of the suggestions and ideas Dr. Restak presents to help prevent memory loss were ideas I’d discovered for myself. So I find it validating. I think practicing self-awareness about how I approach it whenever I forget something is key. Think about the circumstances around why something was forgotten. Reflect on it: was it an isolated moment or part of a larger trend?

A larger trend is more problematic but dig for the roots of it. Don’t automatically react, well, I’m getting old, so I’m getting forgetful. No, be mindful about remembering.

Finally, what really triggered me to think about this as a post subject was his point about reading novels.

One early indicator of memory issues, according to Dr. Restak, is giving up on fiction. “People, when they begin to have memory difficulties, tend to switch to reading nonfiction,” he said.

Yes, indeed, I thought. Remembering characters and plot events and details is challenging when reading a novel and thoroughly exercises our memory muscles.

But if you think reading a novel is a memory challenge, try writing one. Keeping details in mind of a complex character and involved plot will definitely help exercise your memory.

Now let me get back to editing and revising before I forget what I was doing.

Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

Funny how memory serves and disserves us. My recollection of events varies from others. Not surprising; so much of it is shaped and handled by private agendas, shaded by emotions, chiseled by what has happened since.

I know it’s a component of why I write. Trying to understand the intricacies of memories and the dynamics of being, I look into myself for understanding and then spin this process into fiction.

The Power of Coffee

I probably mentioned it before, but my first sip of coffee is actually two or three deep inhalations of the aroma. I’ve done this more or less since I began drinking coffee as a young adult, but the idea was solidified as a ritual when I read that coffee’s smell enhances focus, memory, and attention span. Figuring I needed whatever advantage I could dredge up, I embraced my ritual.

I imagine that some day, I’ll be older, and sharing that with strangers in coffee shops. But not today.

A Dino Ferrari Dream

Young, probably in my twenties in this dream, I was outside with my wife and some friends. Sunshine bathed us in what felt like a warm, beautiful day.

An unknown and unseen man was telling me that he had a car for me. Excitement growing, I laughed and joked about what kind of car this guy was giving me when I looked across the way and saw the front end and passenger compartment of a red Dino Ferrari 246 GTS.

Gasping, I asked, “Is that the car?”

See, the Dino 246 (pictured in photos) was released in 1969. I was thirteen and had discovered sports car and Formula 1 racing. When the car came out, I found it stunning. Even better, a few years later, the 246 GTS was released. This was a targa version of the same car. I’m embarrassed to admit how much I studied and drooled over photos of this car. Eventually, a plastic model was purchased and put together, and the model found space on my bedroom shelves.

But the unseen man said, “No, that’s not it.”

Disappointment staggered me. Then he indicated a black 246 GTS sitting elsewhere. “That’s your car.”

Ecstasy fluttered through me as I goggled at the gleaming black gem of machinery. The man was explaining, “It’s not a 246, but an Evo.” Even as he spoke, I saw the flares that marked the Evo. Evos privately reworked Dinos with upgraded engines and mechanical gear, and not a targa, but a fixed top.

I couldn’t believe that this beautiful car was to be mine. I asked about it a dozen different ways and the man repeatedly assured me, “That’s your car.” Most of the rest of the dream was spent riding around in the car with my wife, showing it off to people and explaining what it was.

But then came a moment when I’d parked the car and found a man with a petrol hose in his hand standing by it. Going to him, I questioned him and discovered that he planned to dose the car with gasoline and set it on fire. I firmly told him, “You are not setting my car on fire.” My voice and words were enough to send him hustling and stumbling away. I then had to explain to others who came up what had transpired as the man with the hose watched from a distance. Seeing him watching, I thought, I’m taking my car and leaving.

Dream end.

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