Friday, June 3, 2016
I get it wrong about every 35 years it seems. The year I turned 35 I was sure I was only going to be 34. Mother told me I was wrong. I argued with her. "I am your mother. I think I know when you were born." She was wrong about some other things so I didn't easily concede her point. I had to go to the calculator.
This year I have been telling everyone I was going to be 72. Mother isn't around to correct me any more, but my kid sister is. And if I was going to be 72 then in January she was going to be 62 and she has a vested interest in that. She corrected me. So today I turn 71, but realistically what difference does a year make unless it is a milestone year like 21 and you could drink legally without your false ID. BTW I made the mistake of celebrating that birthday twice at the same bar with the same bartender. He graciously wished me, "Happy twenty-first Birthday again."
Hard to believe that was 50 years ago. There are some moments in your life you can remember with penultimate clarity and that was one. I could also make a docudrama of my journey through a windshield a couple years before that. Or the out of body experience following the moment my skiing career ended. Or just a couple years ago and what the canyon looked like the morning after my second cataract surgery.
Other things I get wrong like what year was I in school when the art teacher crossed the room in seconds to stand before me with a raised mat knife. I have never looked at a mat knife exactly the same again.
The mind is a strange and sometimes twisted thing. Especially mine because I inherited my father's memory for all things read. And I love reading and research and knowing too much information. Google is my paradise. And yes, I still misplace the telephone, have to have a set place to put my keys, and will wander around the house wondering what it is I was looking for. But I can still recite the Gettysburg address and several Walt Whitman poems. I don't think I am senile but I could use another external hard drive. I live by my desk calendar but am frequently looking at the wrong page.
Two days ago I was sure I was going to be 72 today and not 71.
I sometimes wonder if a triad of witches attended my birth and informed my mother to prepare for a bumpy ride. Largely it has been fun, but then I like roller coasters.