Getting older, non-gracefully . (No pun intended)

This is meant as a tongue in cheek post regarding aging, of things I am noticing, and trying to laugh at. There is nothing to be done, aging is just a life process we all share. I have taught myself to fight the frustration of age, by laughing with it, or about it. No need for depression, panic, despair, always try to keep hope alive. Some of us have ailments that are serious, and there is no humor to be found in them. Maybe getting a laugh at those of us that are still stumbling (No pun intended. Well, perhaps a little.) in our effort to reconcile, that we must have stepped through a time portal. Yesterday was just here. Along with my eyesight, hearing, hair, coordination, sharp memory. Oh, and hair. Did I mention hair?

How’d I miss that! (Attention to detail)

Once was the time when I would enter a room, size up any dangers, any hazards. I still try to do that to keep the brain functioning. At home? I go on auto-pilot because it is home. I am supposed to be relaxed, and I generally am, that explains the scratches on my back, and the prompt for this post.

Reboot, my loyal feline, loves to lay on the back of the high-backed leather desk chair. She routinely falls asleep and falls off. Yes, she lands on her feet. This morning, I entered the office and “plopped” (it’s an art) down in the chair. It apparently didn’t register, as I entered the room, that she was asleep on the back of the chair. She must have awakened at that precise moment. Instead of the sudden forward movement of the chair-back just moving out from under her, sending her to the floor, she must have activated her grappling hooks to hold on. This caused her to be slung forward and catapult onto my back. Her claws worked a lot better in my skin, than they did on the leather.

They say, It’s in the eye of the beholder.

Reading glassed are my friend, too much time on the computer may have led to this condition. My vision is fine at a distance without glasses, if there is enough light. I have mild night blindness that makes it hard to drive at night if it is raining. So, if I am very tired, and the lighting is not good in a room, I may miss something small.

We have the large cockroaches that hang around on the pecan trees in the backyard. From time to time, one will scurry into the house. Michelle freaks when she spots one, then she gags when the dog runs over and consumes it, instead of just killing it. I need to work with him on that.

About a month ago, in the early morning, I came into the office (my man cave).  My faithful legion was waiting there. One Great Dane, Two German Shepard’s, all three sprawled on the floor in various comical poses. I suddenly spot the cockroach on the floor near the Dane. I’m trying not to spill the cup of coffee in my hand, usher out the dogs quickly before one of them spots it, and keep an eye on the bug. Dogs go out, bug stays put, I grab a writing tablet and proceed to smack it.

I killed the hell out of that very small piece of dog blanket. Michelle, who has the eyes of a hawk at close range, picks that moment to come check on the commotion, as the dogs exited the room, and I kill the piece of dog bed. I’m still bent over, having just delivered the final killing blow. “Miss your medicine this morning”? Then she leaves giggling.  It’s our little joke, when one of us does something weird or out of place.

Did you hear that? 

My hearing is getting weird. The last two years or so the left ear has gone about 75% deaf, also sounds like a group of Cicada bugs in the distance. I’ve noticed as I got older, the music is too loud, and everyone mumbles.

I have to marvel that I seem to have surround sound now. Certain tones come through fine on the left side. I can watch a movie, explosions or ticking clocks of certain frequency, or maybe footsteps come from the left, and the rest of the movie sound on the right. Sometimes it’s cool. I can hear some sounds on the left, that others can’t. I’ll deal with it.

Plug that leak!

I have type 2 Diabetes, I’m on an aspirin a day regimen, not sure if it’s really for my heart, or my mothers-in-law talking. Therefore, if you puncture, scrape, or otherwise break my outer epidermis, which I have noticed looks awfully thin these days, I will continue leaking the red lubrication that keeps us running smoothly. I keep Michelle busy running for band-aids, she acts like I may run out of blood at any moment. I also contribute to the increased profits of band-aid sales at the Dollar General across the street.

Short Term Memory
(I forgot…)

 

So, while we can, laugh at adversity, smile in the face of uncertainty, hold onto.. Uh, hope, or was that rope. Uh,slope? Never mind, I forgot.

Share your journey with us all. Comments welcome.

Just what is a memory. Do we really know?

Memories

Just what is a memory, can you tell me what it’s like…
And if you hold it long enough, can you see it in the light?
Are they cold, or hot, or in between, are they heavy to the touch…

To be such fragile, elusive things, who would think they’d hurt so much.

For everyone, a memory, is made of many things…
Some are joy, and some are sad, and some make lovers dream.
Hot and cold, some shy, some bold, they keep us company…
And when the night is very still, some times they help us see.

They serve a purpose in our lives, they keep our hearts on track…
They help us look for days ahead, and help some not go back.
And when you can no longer touch, that which your heart desires…
You always have the memories, they burn like signal fires.

For some they have a color, be it blue, or black, or gray…
And some are kept in tender hearts, as the smell of a special day.
Of rice and song and special vows, they bring forth times gone by…
Of gravel crunching beneath the wheels, and wreaths that make you cry.

So Just what is a memory, are they whispers of where we’ve been?…
Are they here to keep us company, or remind us of a sin.
Do they hurt, or heal, or tear hearts down, I suppose there are all kinds…
So try to make good memories, since they live within our minds.

So when the sun, has gone to sleep, and evening begins to stir…
The wind blows soft, the stars are bright, and memories are heard.
You hear them calling out to you, and tugging at your heart…
And if they are the happy ones, no tears will ever start.

My memories are flavors, I’ve tasted every one…
Some were sweet, and some were not, and some still on my tongue.
I would not trade a one of them, I’ll love them to my grave…
For in my heart they burn as bright, as the day that they were made

© Ron Walker August 1998

We had a gathering and cook-out of friends and family at our place located in the country. There was conversation around the fire, about all kinds of memories everyone had. Memories of school, growing up, lost loves, and those that had passed that we had known. A few days later, while thinking back on the cook-out conversation, I decided to write this.