I try not to think about it, but the truth is that I’m closer to 60 years old than I am to 55. It seems impossible, but I guess it must be true. Now, I can claim that I’m very young for my age, but that sounds pretty self-delusional – not that I’m above that.
Mostly I feel the same as I’ve always felt. I still wear jeans as often as possible, and I don’t wear them up around my armpits. I still like a lot of rock and pop music, though I’ve added more country to my listening. And, I listen to a lot of talk radio, which
puts me into the older Americans category I guess.
I’ve been messing things up more often lately. I don’t know if that’s a sign of impending old age, or just a problem of focus, or maybe just a series of coincidental incidents. That would be a good name for a band: “The Coincidental Incidents.”
For example, during my many travels I’ve left my calendar someplace – probably a hotel room or rental car. Dementia? Or perhaps leaving a hotel room after having turned out the lights in order to save the earth, thereby making my black calendar impossible to see? Or maybe it slid under the seat of a rental car?
Another dark hotel room moment resulted in leaving my computer and briefcase in a hotel room. I got it back, but that was a
pain. I now have a check-out checklist before I shut the door one last time.
I’ve scheduled meetings and then written them down on the wrong date. I left my credit card in the payment folio at
a restaurant, resulting in its theft, and $1,500 in fraudulent charges being made in 12 hours’ time.
When I think about these episodes, it occurs to me that none of them are really unusual for me over the course of my life. I left a credit card at a restaurant in 1978. I’ve been leaving clothes in hotel room drawers and closets for 30 years or more. The lost calendar was the third of my career, to the best of my memory, which may not be that good.
The truth is that I am, and always have been, a goof-up. I think I make up for it with other favorable qualities, but messing up isn’t something new for me.
I think it may run in my family. At age 40 my dad would walk around the house looking for his glasses, which he was wearing
at the time. Thirty years later, he was doing the same thing. He was the epitome of the absent minded professor. I do
teach part time, but I’m no professor.
And, my mind isn’t absent. It’s just busy doing something else when it should be taking care of business. But, it’s one quality I seemed to have inherited from my dad.
A certain song keeps going through my head. It’s by the band “Chumbawamba.” The lyric goes like this: “Do you suffer from long term memory loss? I can’t remember.” How apt.
So, if you see me on Main Street, standing there looking puzzled, I’m probably experiencing what the Urban Dictionary calls “Destinesia: When you get to where you are going and forget why you went there.” Don’t mind me: I’m just approaching 60.
