Native Writes: Changing with aging


A walk down the hall at work recently taught me what the passage of years does to one’s mindset.

I walked past the ladies’ room, then stopped and went back. I may as well go in and go while I’m down there.

A sale on yarn was attractive so I bought some. You just never know.

I’m not a hoarder because I dispose of empty containers and old newspapers. Still, I had better keep that old jacket because I might go fishing again.

That woman’s magazine was delivered by mistake. A look at it told me soft porn is everywhere. Back in the day, a young man’s rite of passage was obtaining a National Geographic with aborigine women walking bare chested in their villages. Now, a supermarket magazine has more.

The easiest way to convey a secret past someone under 18 is to write it in cursive.

There were no instructions for any of the outdoor games we played as kids. The boy who owned the ball was usually in charge.

Dressing up doesn’t mean wearing a dress.

Inch-long eyelashes are usually fake, but three-inch long fingernails may not be.

Stand-up comedy doesn’t need to be vulgar.

After 50 years in journalism, some people will always know how to do my job better than I do. News is not opinion.

Not everything is memorable. Forgetting is said to be beneficial for mental health.

Carrying something into a room, then forgetting why yields some upbeat designing ideas unless it’s a roll of tissue, then remembering is important.

Comparing one’s experiences from year to year as another summer comes and goes is unnecessary brain damage. Rain may fall, the wind may blow, but experiences abound.

A photo of a grandmother in a cotton dress with a frilly apron doesn’t mean all grandmas must be thusly clad. I tried it once and the grandkids thought I was in costume for something.

They forget more easily than I do and that’s good. To quote my grandson, “not every one’s kid is an idiot.”

When my sons were small, I learned to put valuable breakables up high. That’s when I learned children can get their hands on anything they want.

The number of “meds” one takes isn’t necessary for conversation. I can’t recall the names of the four I must take.

Heart problems aren’t always emotional.

Bed legs probably serve several purposes, not the least of which is breaking a toe that can’t be put in a splint.

College education doesn’t mean one has common sense.

At this stage in life, I have learned where thoughts come from and where they go.

If everyone was the same, this world would be unbearably boring.

Finally, if I really can’t remember, there’s the computer.

If I still can’t remember, as a very wise woman once said, “I can’t remember and I’m too old to give a damn.”

Common language has changed the most since I fell in love with the printed word at age 3.

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