| Jinny’s article this week will be written by her daughter, Adele.
I want to begin this by telling everyone that my mother has been spending a few days in her favorite spa, the hospital. She is home now, but not up to writing quite yet.
I have decided that I must be getting old. When I say things like this, people usually either make a comment about how fortunate I am that I don’t look my age, (Thanks for the good genes, Mom & Pop) or that age is only a state of mind. Right, that’s what I’m worried about…my mind.
I notice that I forget things a lot easier than I used to. I used to have one of those minds that was capable of storing massive amounts of information for eternity. Now, I’m lucky if I can remember stuff from yesterday. I can still name all the Plantagenet Kings in chronological order, but I tend to forget what I ate for breakfast yesterday.
To be honest, I was always a little out there. I remember once in high school I was walking across a large open field towards home at the end of the day, when I heard someone screaming my name. I looked up, and noticed that I was standing in the No Man’s Zone between two large factions of students about to erupt into a racial fight that I had managed to not notice. My best friend, who happened to be African American, was screaming my name at the top of her lungs, terrified that I was going to get caught in the middle of a huge fist fight. Everyone was just staring at me as if I had grown an extra head. Then the staring turned into laughter and the potential combatants were so amused that they all broke up and went home. The Principal credited me with inadvertently preventing a major school incident. Go me.
As I recall, I had been thinking at the time about soliloquy in some Shakespeare play that I found particularly fabulous and was reciting it to myself in order to commit it to memory. I was odd.
One time, in the grocery store, I managed to get to the check-out line and put all my groceries on the counter without ever noticing that my brother and sister-in-law were behind me. I was in my usual cloud, ruminating on the properties of black holes in space. I hate grocery shopping. I have to think about something else or go crazy.
Despite the evidence that suggests that I have always been somewhat spacey, I have always had a superb memory. After all, I remembered all that Shakespeare and the properties of black holes in space. Not so much anymore. Now, I have days when I can barely remember what day it is. It’s the little things I’m having problems with. I can still recall the big things.
I blame it on children. Raising children takes perfectly good brain cells and turns them into the consistency of Cream of Wheat. There you are, a perfectly sane and reasonable adult, and then you have kids. Suddenly, you are wondering if there is a room in some Mental Health Institution somewhere with your name on it. In my present job, I have what amounts to 350 children, all of them adolescents. There are days, believe me, when coming home to my wonderful 11 year old is a blessing. His issues are pretty basic.
Perhaps I have no desire to remember certain things. I know that a lot less bothers me than it did 20 years ago. Things I used to get all angsty about, I now blow off as meaningless. This attitude tends to bother my two older children, who are now adults. I guess I am less firm with Chuck than I was with them. They tell him that he gets away with stuff that they never got away with. So sue me. I’m a lot more laid back now. What’s the rush? I don’t worry so much about Chuck being able to do certain things by a certain age or whether or not he falls on the right place on some chart. He seems fine to me and I’m enjoying him immensely. I doubt if my laissez-faire attitude has scarred him for life or anything. He has good manners and is terribly smart and tons of fun. What else is there?
So, even though I occasionally worry about my small memory problems, I think I’ll wait and not be seriously worried until I forget where I live or go to work in my pajamas or something. I’m certain that someone will notice and mention it to me.