Did I say memory? I wish I had still had one, but unfortunately that convenience is one of the first things to leave when you get older. One day, you're heading down the hallway and suddenly realize you have no idea why...or even of your destination. The first time you suffer from the sudden amnesia bout, you experience a little bit of terror, but when forgetting becomes commonplace, you have no choice but to rearrange your life to accommodate your shortcomings. Example? Sure! I now use a checklist before leaving home to make sure I don't burn the house down by forgetting to turn off a critical appliance. I have lots of time to make sure I'd crossed everything off the list because I'm usually looking for car keys that I've put somewhere I can't recall.
One of the most annoying parts of having no memory is running into people you don't remember--especially when they know your name. Embarrassing, to say the least, to hem and haw around and hope you get a clue, even if it comes through divine intervention. Usually it doesn't. If the person is my age, there probably isn't any use in asking for clues on how they remember me, but then I probably wouldn't remember what they said anyhow. I think everyone over the age of fifty should have their named embroidered on their clothing in a highly visible area...and in large letters for those of us who put our glasses somewhere and can't find them.
This reminded me of a joke: (these paragraphs don't count)
Two elderly women were out driving in a large car--both could barely see over the dashboard. As they cruised along, they came to an intersection where the traffic light was red. Instead of stopping, the driver went right on through.
The woman in the passenger seat was horrified. She turned to her friend. "I must be losing it. I could swear the light was red." The driver said nothing.
After a few more minutes, they came to another intersection and red light, and again the car sped through. A little further down the street, it happens again.
Now the woman passenger is beginning to panic, but before she can mention anything, the driver runs another light. Fearing for her life, the passenger turns to her friend. "Mildred, do you realize you've been running every red light? You are going to get us both killed."
Mildred turns wide eyes on the passenger. "Oh crap! Am I driving?"
Now that you've had a chuckle, let's discuss your eyesight. It goes bye-bye along with your memory. God was kind here because most people over the age of fifty have lost some degree of their vision. I figure he planned the loss to balance the shock of the body changes we experience. If we wore our corrective lenses to bed, senior sex would come to an immediate halt. Seeing each other with 20/20 accuracy would most likely make celibacy an option, even at our age.
Senior sex you say? Studies show that most adults remain sexually active well into their golden years and actually enjoy intercourse more than when they were young. Really? I might admit I'm trying to be one of those people, only because I hear sex prolongs ones' life. I view bedroom intimacy as my monthly dose of exercise. Why jog every day when I can make my heart race three times faster by just assuming some of the positions I favored in my younger years? At present, the 'missionary' is my favorite since I spend most of the time praying for the torture to end. Oh, and I've come to the conclusion that the aforementioned study might have been based solely on bedroom noises. Who can decipher with any degree of accuracy between someone lost in the throes of ecstasy and someone with the sudden onset of leg cramps. Face it, at fifty and over, most of us just aren't as agile as we used to be.
Okay, I cheated a bit this week by adding the joke, so I'll stop for now and invite you to visit my friends and see what tidbits they're sharing:
Rhobin Lee Courtright