Reading glasses, candy corn, course language and other thoughts
Emptying the mental attic
By Jim LaJoie, co-publisher, contributor
There are times, not often, when my mind has attained solitary focus. There are times, even less frequently, when my mind has achieved a state of complete quiescence, when it is at rest, inactive, completely free of idle thoughts.
Then there are all the other moments, when my mind is collecting random thoughts, some useful, some not so much, like an attic filling with not-to-be-used but not-to-be-discarded sundries of life. My mind is like that old empty trunk with childhood mementos, that broken kitchen chair, the no-longer worn clothing, the unused old holiday decorations, that box of miscellanous castoffs, that all just sit in the attic, unused. My mind is a hoarder of disparate thoughts.
So, in order to tidy up the old mental attic a bit, here are some random thoughts that have just been sitting up there until now:
On reading glasses
Increasingly over the past several years, I have been forced to rely on reading glasses for anything written in small type. And when I say “small”, that definition is becoming narrower as time goes on. Thankfully, my distance vision is still fine, but my days of reading text off of a small can of soup, for instance, are over. Without reading glasses, I wouldn’t be able to read a book with regular type, or at least without much longer arms.
I am so dependent on reading glasses, that I have accumulated a small stash of them. We have a medium-sized ranch home. There are six rooms. In those six rooms are five pairs of reading glasses. I also have a pair in the center console of my car. My wife, whose vision is myopic, is my extra set of eyes when readers aren’t available, which is nearly everywhere outside of our house. Or, sometimes in the house when I am too lazy to find readers. I haven’t resorted to carrying a pair of readers everywhere I go, but that day is coming. Dammit, that day is coming.
I dislike having to rely so much on readers. Now I will admit that at my age, with 70 now in my not-too-distant future, I could have much, much worse issues to contend with, but this little annoyance is a daily reminder of my increasing limitations.
Limitations are just that: limiting. I don’t like physical limitations. I know, I know, this isn’t going to get any better in coming years.
Sigh…..
The coursening language in our political culture
It once was, in the not-so-distant past, that a politician using profanity was considered shocking, or at least in poor taste. Now, however, it seems to be the native tongue of many, in both parties.
And I am not talking about minor expletives, no these days the strongest vulgarities are heard from the mouths of our so-called political leaders. The “F word” seems to be now considered an acceptable form of political discourse.
Again, this is happening with politicians of both parties (although, it is fairly obvious where this path of degradation started, as always, from the top). It seems to me that this course language is used mostly performatively - “look at how tough I am, fighting our political opponent” - but just comes across as unprincipled.
I am no prig. I freely admit to using course language myself at times. However, my use is limited and mostly said around those I am closest to, and typically other guys (which I admit comes across as sexist).
A politician lowering himself/herself to this type of language comes across as someone with either a poor vocabularly or a weak and losing argument.
I wish our political leaders would be exemplars of how we as Americans should interact with each other.
Yes, I am wildly naive.
Candy corn
As summer begins to conclude, thoughts of fall drift into consciousness. For me, in earlier days, fall meant Halloween which meant candy corn was available. I loved candy corn. Probably still would if I allowed myself to eat it. Those tri-colored sweat treats could be eaten in at least a couple of ways: swallowed whole or layer by layer starting from the top down (unless you were a contrarian and ate bottom-up).
There is something completely satisfying about candy corn.
Now I want some….
On golf
I have only golfed once, with two buddies who were much more experienced duffers and who were gracious enough to play “best ball.” One of my two best buddies owned a golf range for awhile and I was able to use that a number of times.
I wish I had taken up golf earlier in my life. I know, I could certainly take it up now. This blog’s theme is about getting older without getting old, so we encourage taking on new challenges throughout your life. But golf, even from those who are most enthusiastic about the sport, seems like one that takes great patience, much practice, and all-consuming passion for. I know I don’t have that much patience and don’t see myself developing an absolute passion for the sport.
But, I wish I could. Especially in retirement, it seems like something that would fill a lot of time, not just spent but completely enveloped in. The golfers I know play it, practice it, watch it, talk it, think about it. Every day.
I wish I had that passion for it. It seems like something that would have had to start earlier in my life.
But, there is still time…..
On baseball
Ok, I just wrote I don’t have a passion for golf, although I wish I did. I do, though, have a passion for baseball, especially my favorite team, the Boston Red Sox (which from April to early June I would only have admitted to sheepishly. Those who follow baseball will know the allusion).
I became a baseball fan in 1967 at the age of 8. It was the year of the Impossible Dream for the Red Sox. I have been a fan ever since. There are 162 games in a regular season, and I look forward to each and every one of them. I scour the internet for internet for all news and rumors pertaining to my team. I am obsessed.
Summers seem infinitely more enjoyable when my Sawx (as the name is pronounced by any native Bostonian), are doing well.
This summer, which once looked as if it was going to be interminably long, now seems to be flying by. I hope this lasts through October.
Side effects that seem worse than the cure
If you pay enough attention to the seemingly thousands of commercials on medications that run constantly on television, it would give you some pause as to whether the side effects are worse than the cure. And, the ads always cite the side effects at the end, as if a throwaway.
“This medication can cure selective hearing loss, or SHL. The medication’s effects may include death, dismemberment and diarrhea.”
Wait, what?
(Incidentally, despite my best efforts to convince my wife otherwise, selective hearing loss is not a real medical condition).
I realize that these side effects may only be had by a very small number of those taking the drug, and that in a litigious society manufacturers need to acknowledge them (and, rightfully so). But geez, it seems with some of these drugs, the possible side effects would make me think twice - or four or five times - about taking them.
On my unwanted nightly ritual
I began this blog post about my increasing physical limitations, especially those that annoy me. Although the last item here, this may be the most annoying:
I need to get up to pee at least once every night. Sometimes twice. And it always seems to be necessary when I have entered a particularly deep sleep, only to wake up momentarily and realize I have to go. I fight the urge to get up, attempt to go back to sleep, but my obstinate bladder keeps forcefully reminding me that sleep will elude me until I go.
Of course, after going I need at least 5-10 minutes before I can fall asleep again.
Argh!!!!
When did this happen? I remember when I could go out with buddies until the wee hours, after drinking way too many beers, and not have to go until morning. Of course, when I think about it, that was likely at least four decades ago, so of course times, and my biology, have changed.
I have tried not drinking any liquids at least two hours before going to bed. That just leaves me dessicated, feeling like this:
Limitations are just that: limiting. I don’t like physical limitations. I know, I know, this isn’t going to get any better in coming years.
Sigh…..
Final thoughts
Ok, now that I have emptied the mental attic a bit, there is now room for more minutiae, brain noise, mental clutter.
Wait, a thought just occured to me…..
Good one Jim! I can definitely relate!