I am having a problem as I age. Well, sure, lots of problems, like my legs moving about as smoothly as an engine with cold motor oil on a winter day. Or a memory that drains faster than a smartphone left on video streaming overnight. Or an arthritic neck that moves about as easily as a frozen, rusted bolt.
But I can handle those. They are physical reminders of aging. I know they are inevitable and cyclical, like the tides. So I just wait for the tide to change and go about life, though I did add a second handrail to the staircase at home.
But what feels like a high tide during a wave-crashing fall storm is that my mind has decided to replay a videotape on an endless loop of all the mistakes, misjudgments and embarrassing moments in my life. It’s like a self-inflicted celebrity roast, but without any laughs.
I’m not sure why my memory decided to dump its storage into my viewfinder. Knowing why really doesn’t matter. I figure resisting is pointless — it’s not like my subconscious needs or wants my conscious permission. Though I take some comfort in knowing that a college friend said she is going through the same affliction. Maybe it is our punishment for being part of the 1960s, though I ate far more hotdogs, salami sticks, pizza and instant mashed potatoes than I ever did drugs.
Mostly I just wait for the memory to fade away, but there have been some memorable moments.
Such as my total recall of a summer more than 50 years ago when I drove cab in Chicago. I picked up a fare at the airport, a doctor who needed to get to the hospital quickly to see a child. He asked to go to the children’s hospital, and, being a loyal resident of Chicago’s South Side, I knew exactly where the children’s hospital was. I took him immediately to the front door and said goodbye.
I was pretty proud of myself until I started thinking more about our conversation during the cab ride, and then I realized: He wanted to go to a children’s hospital on the North Side. I thought about the doctor hailing a second cab to get to the right hospital, and how the kid did while waiting.
I also have recalled a case of mistaken identity.
I was meeting a candidate at a coffee shop in Anchorage to discuss political issues. I had met her only once before, but thought I would remember what she looked like. I spotted her, coffee cup in her hand, as I walked up to the counter.
I said hello in my nicest friendly style, suggested that she sit down and I would quickly join her after getting my coffee.
Only it wasn’t her. It was a stranger who clearly and instantly freaked out that some unknown 6-foot-5 guy with a beard and funny shoes said he would join her, uninvited.
She dumped her unfinished coffee in the trash can and hurried out of the coffee shop and into the department store, walking as fast as she could.
I realized I had the wrong person and thought about running after her to apologize. But then I pictured this scared woman seeing that she was being followed by some creepy guy. I didn’t want her to start screaming for help, so I walked in the other direction.
I wish the memory tape in my head would at least give me a name or an email so that I could apologize to the woman.
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