Monday Morning Musings

Posted on February 19, 2018 under Monday Morning Musings with 6 comments

My daughter Margaret and mom

The signs are all there. We know it’s coming. We can see it, feel it, taste it and smell it. We can feel it in our bones. The days on the calendar are being checked off. It can’t be long now.

We’re getting older and all along you thought I was talking about the arrival of spring. Gotcha!

Facebook, that glorious repository of truth and knowledge, serves up a gem every once in a while. I noticed this post a few days ago: “It’s official. I’m losing it. Just entered my iPhone passcode into the microwave to make a cup of tea.” Yes, folks, for those of you haven’t yet received your first Old Age Security cheque, this is what you have coming straight at you.

I am starting to see the telltale signs of aging. None of them are really egregious (yet!) but make no mistake; the aging process is well underway. All of the senses listed in the first paragraph are not as refined as they once were.

Ok. So I showed up for a big pot luck dinner in late October. It wasn’t only October that was late. I strutted up the sidewalk on Church Street to St. James United Church planning on a scrumptious meal to mark the end of the Antigonish International Film festival. I went all out and dressed up in one of my colorful outfits acquired in India. Yes, it did seem a bit odd at first that there were no cars parked along the way, but the locked door to the church hall was a dead giveaway. After a few knocks on the door, the custodian gave me entrance but it was all for naught. The dinner had been held the previous day.

Other signs of aging. You’re heading to another room in the house to get something and upon arrival, you don’t have a clue what you’re looking for, requiring you to backtrack and start the process all over again. I know. You’ve done it too. We just can’t see that embarrassed look on your face.

You’re walking down the Main Street of your home town and you see someone coming that you’ve known for maybe 150 years. When they pass, you either (1) call them by their incorrect name or (2) grunt a generic “How’s it going” because you can’t remember their name.

You know you’re getting old when your joints are more accurate meteorologists than Environment Canada.

Your secrets are safe with your friends because they won’t remember them either.

You make a list of things to pack for a big trip so you won’t forget anything and then can’t find the list.

Care to add your own favourites to the list?

Because the local restaurants were packed on Valentine’s Day, I decided to celebrate by hanging out with the folks at the R.K. MacDonald Nursing Home. I was pressed into service on short notice and spent part of the afternoon singing with the residents. The pay was excellent: Valentine’s cake with strawberries and whipped cream. Being the first day of Lent as well, I swallowed hard having hours earlier committed to refraining from sweets for forty days and forty nights. Hell, I barely made it to 40 minutes!

You know those newfangled curly lightbulbs that take a few minutes to light up? This is more or less how I would describe singing with the elderly. Amongst the 40 or so people who endured my singing, a handful was engaged from the first bar of “I’ve been working on the Railroad.” Over the next hour, you could see faces coming alive as they mouthed the words of all those familiar tunes from a bygone era. Nearing the end of the session, I stopped playing the guitar on the chorus and just listened. The room was filled with the joyous voices from the present and the past. All the lightbulbs were fully illuminated.

I can’t think of a better way to have spent Valentine’s Day.

Oh, and yes, spring is coming too!

Have a great week.

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