Recently I’ve felt out of sorts. No real pain, but discomfort. More time in the bed than walking about. Is it Covid? Is it a cold? Is it… Certainly not bad enough to go to the doc-in-the-box, but just not good.
Eating has become a chore rather than a pleasure. Walk through the aisles of the Tummy Temple and nothing entices me. If I eat more than a small douse size meal, I’m bloated. A drink of water gives me gas. Sleeping has become a series of naps. Common chores become chores.
What this time has is the opportunity to think.
I’m writing a memoir. Nothing memorable that will be on the best-selling book list (I’m not celebrity) but it has kept my mind busy with thoughts long forgotten. Unfortunately, these are my recollections of events in time, without any confirmation or validation that they actually occurred.
While I write down the fractured fairytales of my life, I wonder how other people experience the same moment in time. I’ve tried to keep track of my time on this planet but I’m just as forgetful as the next person.
At the same time, this memory exercise is bringing up some things and people long forgotten. Don’t know if anyone else will ever read or understand why I wrote this.
At the age of a geezer, looking ahead isn’t that promising. Contemplating the past and passing it on to the next generation is for grandparents.
It doesn’t take a Doctor Ben Casey, Doctor Kildare, Doctor McCoy or Doctor Who to inform you that your body is wearing out. Daily family will not notice the changes because it is a gradual decay. Friends and acquaintances who have not been seen in some time may comment on your present condition or just gossip behind your back.
The best part of Geezerhood (to me) is so much trivia and cultural whelms can be quickly overlooked as non-essential to my personal needs. That cuts out advertising, that paid my bills through the years. Whether presented in a pop-up or a Tik-Tok or a news page recommending the latest model of a gadget that must be acquired for your collection, I can by pass without a need to fall into the trap of impressing others with a presentation of ownership for emotional gratification.
Geezerhood also allows looking at historical pictures and remembering driving on gravel roads or railroad tracks or Sundays when every store in town was closed. Ancestry? Tradition? Heritage?
Geezerhood also exposes voting rights, pollution, LGBTXYZ, the pill, abortion rights, diversity employment and educational availability, review of the celebration of insurrectionist in a town where the main street was segregated.
Looking at a photo of my elementary class, it is easy to wonder how these children grew up. There was no diversity (except girls). Everyone, as I remember, lived in similar houses but there was never any discussion of religion or dietary preference or fashion for all those were decided by our parents. Conformity was the golden rule.
How did they (we) adjust to the changes of the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and the new millennium? Each one has their own story and a few hours in a class reunion cannot describe them all.
Today I’ve had a baked potato as my daily meal. We’ll see how that goes.
Until next time…
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