Road Apples by Tim Sanders
Jan. 7, 2013

So go reflect

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Casting about for a topic this week, I heard a very wise man on TV (either a meteorologist or a sportscaster, I forget which) say that now that the old year was over and a new one had commenced, it was time for honest men everywhere to pause and reflect. This seemed reasonable to me, so I went to the bathroom and got a little hand mirror and started pausing and reflecting. I paused and reflected very diligently, and kept it up for several minutes, but it didn't seem to do me much good. There was no sudden inspiration, no clarity of thought. Just that same old stupid face staring back at me. And now that my vision is failing, even the face in the mirror was unclear. “I suppose that's some consolation,” I told myself. “I may be falling apart, but with my lousy eyesight it's not nearly as noticeable. That face staring back at me from the mirror would look really bad if I could see better, but I can't, and so it doesn't.” Getting old has its disadvantages, but it also has its compensations. The guy on TV was right, I'd paused to reflect, and my fuzzy reflection had provided a topic. Swell.


TOPIC: AGING HAS ITS COMPENSATIONS


Poor Eyesight - Poor eyesight is not good, but it has its advantages. For one thing, everybody under 40 looks better than they used to. Just the other day I was watching an old “Leave it to Beaver” episode, and found myself saying “Y'know, old June Cleaver wasn't a bad looking woman at all.”


Hearing Loss - Poor hearing brings with it a lot of problems, but it also can make life much more interesting. When other people hear someone request “glass of ice water,” you hear “a plastic fly swatter,” and when they hear somebody complaining about “erectile dysfunction,” you hear “a reptile disruption.” And when they hear their wife say “I saw a coat I really like today,” you convince yourself, if only for a few seconds, that you heard “I saw a goat riding a bike today.” And when your wife asks you why you'd think she said anything at all about a goat riding a bike, and you tell her that half the things she says never make any sense anymore, that's often when the fight begins. Poor hearing makes life interesting.


Short-term Forgetfulness - When you turn 60, you sometimes forget little, inconsequential things like your underwear, or why you got up out of your recliner and walked all the way into the kitchen for something which seemed very important at the time. Okay, so maybe the forgetting the underwear part is seldom good, but forgetting why you went into a specific room after that mystery something or other gives you plenty of opportunities to look around, search the grounds, read the clues and discover just what that object may be. Or not. Whatever the case, playing Columbo is excellent mental exercise.


Long-term Forgetfulness - The way this works is that one day in July you and your wife are in the car, talking about the good old days, and you tell her the very same story you've probably told her a dozen times before about an employee you hired almost 40 years ago. You can't remember her name, but she was quite a character, and you finally give up and change the subject. So six months later, in the dead of winter, you and your wife are leaving the car, on your way into the house, and it hits you. Not the car, the name. “FLOSSIE RAYBON!” you shout, triumphantly. “That was her name!” Of course you have to explain just whose name it was, and how it was up there in your mental filing cabinet, waiting to surprise you when you least expected it. That happens a lot, and sometimes it's great fun.


Compensatory Tactile Perception - Sometimes, just to make up for your many losses, including sight, hearing, hair, memory, and underwear, your body will give you a little extra awareness of things going on in and under your skin.


This has happened to me more than a few times, and I usually notice it when Marilyn and I are lying in bed.


ME: HEY, there it goes again! Turn on the light, quick!

MARILYN [flipping on the light]: Is that cat out on the deck again?

ME: No, it's my hair. That one right up at the very top of my forehead. It's wiggling and twitching again. Look at it!

MARILYN: Bless its heart, it's probably lonely.

ME: Very funny. Look at it, that one right there. It does it every night around this time. See it dancing?

MARILYN: I see nothing. It's probably just a nerve you feel. Take my word for it, nothing is dancing on your head, but if you wake me up again, I may just oblige you!


I believe my body has compensated for my other losses by giving me the ability to feel that one tiny hair, twitching and shaking, yearning to be free of its follicle and fall upon my pillow. And when it's gone, others will join the dance recital and bail out in droves, like rats leaving a sinking ship.

So if you are an aging Baby Boomer like me, and need comfort, run to the bathroom, fetch a mirror, and reflect. Reflect on how boring things were when everything worked properly and life required no imagination at all.

And if, late one night, you feel that single, solitary hair dancing about on your head, be afraid. Be very afraid. It's planning to escape. Soon others will follow, and in no time at all you'll be wearing a boggin day and night to keep your bald head warm.