TEMPUS  FUGIT

I was sitting on a green padded stool at the bar in the corner of my favorite watering hole. I’ve come here so much that I think of it as “Dave’s Corner”.

And who should walk in, but my Long Lost Cousin. In all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine! I think that was Bogart’s phrase in Casablanca. It was quite appropriate on this occasion!

“Hey cousin, why so glum looking?”

“I’m a pensioner now and the time seems to be flying by. I can’t keep up. I’m frightened!”

He did look pale!

“Bartender, give my cousin a gin and tonic and another beer for me.”

My cousin drank his drink fast, and re-ordered!

“Why are you frightened?”

“I feel like shouting, “Stop the world, I want to get off!”. But I’m not quite ready to jump off. I want to stop time from racing away from me. The faster time goes, the more I have to face the fact that my time is running out!”

“Well, cousin, you need to live each day to the full.”

LLC shifted his weight on the green padded stool.

“Cousin, how can you be so calm, you’re older than I am!”

“My dear cousin, I will not live in fear. What will be, will be!”

“I’m starting to feel that when youth is gone, the party is over.”

LLC’s voice and hands were shaky.

“Relax, my friend, you’ll live longer!”

“Oh, that’s real funny cousin. But WHY is this happening?”

I felt sorry for him. He was a bundle of nerves.

“Well, cousin, there are a few theories: One theory is that fewer NEW things happen in an old person’s life. There is constant routine which makes time seem to fly.”

“Oh great, now I’m going to be old and bored!”

“Hold on, here’s theory number two: Years are proportionally smaller as we get older. For example: A year is l/10^th of the life of a 10 year old, but a year is 1/70^th of the life of a 70 year old. Therefore, each year feels shorter relative to all  the time we’ve lived and thus time seems to be going faster!”

“Too many theories, it’s boggling my mind. Age doesn’t always bring wisdom, you know, in my case it came alone!”

I smiled: “Well, at least you haven’t completely lost your sense of humor!”

“What’s theory three, not that it makes any difference.”

“You’ll like this one. Your biological clock slows down, so that means your bodily processes slow down, so your internal clock is much slower than the calendar! So, time passes much quicker than you expected it to!”

“Now I am miserable.”

“Cousin, you need to get some fun in your life.”

“Why! They say: Time flies when you’re having fun. But when you’re old, time flies whether you’re having fun of not!”

“Cousin, maybe it would help if you lived in the Present more.”

“Oh, I give up! We are all born to die and we’re certain it is going to happen. Since I am in my 7^th decade, for me this inevitability will probably occur sometime within the next 20 or so years. It seems like a long time but the years are accelerating. So when it does occur, my reaction will be: “WHAT! ALREADY!”

I was at a writer’s conference in London, listening to a speaker talking about the merits of categorizing people. It’s like that old adage: When you point a finger at someone there are three fingers pointing back at you! Often when you label a person, it reflects on you also. Categorizing is about self-awareness!

After the speech, we were all tested to see what type we were. The six people at my table, including me, had a discussion about the pros and cons of typing people.

“Well, here we are ladies and gents, we have all been typed, and I am an introvert. I’m very independent, I’m a “do it my way” person, like Frank Sinatra. What were you people typed as?”

Tom spoke up: “I’m an extrovert, a realist who is action-oriented.”

Jim smiled and said: “I’m also an extrovert, but I’m a communicator and persuader. I motivate people.”

Patsie mumbled: “I’m an introvert. I’ll try anything once, usually high-risk things.”

“I’m an extrovert. I take on challenges readily. I’m inventive and I tend to convert everything to ideas and schemes,” said Lily.

Jane looked confused and said: “I’m an introvert. I tend to do the necessary things that have to be done. I’m driven by a sense of responsibility and I’m a practical person.”

“Well, that’s all very interesting. Now, do you agree with your test type?”

I became the moderator of the group!

“Yes and no,” said all!

“Well, I think I have some of each type and I try to see people as individuals not types,” said Jane.

“I think Jane is right,” said Tom, “Sometimes I’m an extrovert and sometimes I’m an introvert.”

“That’s true, but what I think is being tested here is what ways we prefer to express ourselves most of the time.”

They all nodded in agreement.

“We were all tested on extroversion and introversion. Do you remember what the speaker said about them?”

Lily explained: “You are an extrovert if you verbalize much of what you observe and think. You talk rather than listen. You are a lively person.”

“Wow! There’s nothing wrong with your memory, Lily,” said Patsie.

Patsie continued: “You’re an introvert if you keep your observations and thinking inside. You listen rather than talk.”

Jim responded: “Yes, I’m an extrovert because I am energized by the outside world.”

And Jane said: “I’m an introvert. I get energy from reflection, introspection and solitude. Introverts want a quiet life in a noisy world!”

“Well, all your comments have been spot on. Shall we finish by having you all comment on: Should you put people in categories?”

They all looked very pensive.

“I’ll kick it off, I think we are all individuals and I resent it when people think they know me just because they have put me in a pigeon-hole!”

Everyone nodded and clapped.

“I think it’s human nature to type people whether we realize it or not,” said Tom.

“You should not try to judge people until you get to know them. But we tend to group people as soon as we meet them,” said Jim.

“But can’t we fight against the bad things in our nature,” argued Patsie.

“I like to fool people. I am basically shy, but sometimes I become a mouthy dame,” laughed Lily.

“When you pigeon-hole someone, you really might lose the chance to get to know them better,” said Jane.

I chimed in: “Sometimes, we ASSUME we know a person by grouping them and when they prove us wrong, we feel like an ASS!”

The table exploded with laughter!

“At the end of the day, we are all writers. Will all this info about typing people help us become better writers?”

“I think it will. It will help us put together our characters more realistically. We also, will realize why we approach a story the way we do,” said Tom.

Everyone agreed.

“So, I’ll sum up this discussion with the statement: EVERYONE IS NOT LIKE YOU. YOU ARE UNIQUE. DIFFERENT IS NOT BAD, IT’S JUST DIFFERENT!”

I entered the psychologist’s office reluctantly. But I knew I had to find out if I was losing my memory.

The psychologist greeted me and led me to a huge black leather reclining chair. He looked a lot like Sigmund Freud, oval head, balding, deep-set eyes and a grey beard and mustache.

“Doctor, I’m afraid I’m losing my memory and if it goes so will my identity!”

I called him doctor, I didn’t know if he was or not, but it sounded more like he would know what he is talking about if I called him doctor!

“What makes you think this is not just normal aging?”

“It happens too often and it makes me feel powerless.”

“That’s you choosing to feel powerless, I will help you “unchoose” that perception. What you need is a new mindset!”

Now I was getting confused.

“What is a mindset?”

The Freud look alike cleared his throat and said:

“Mindsets are beliefs, perceptions and attitudes; in your case your beliefs and attitudes about memory and aging. How you think about things, negatively or positively.”

“Doctor, I know memory erodes with age, I just turned seventy, does this mean, I am declining in my cognitive functioning?”

I thought I’d throw that in, “cognitive functioning”, so he wouldn’t think I’m  a dummy.

Freud continued: “Our beliefs are the rules and values that guide us in our daily activities.”

Then I went off the deep end.

“Doctor, I know my memory is failing and I can’t stand it.”

“Relax!”

“I can’t relax, this is awful, I can’t remember my neighbor’s name or the items I needed at the grocery store. My memory is bad and it is only going to get worse!”

I started breathing heavy!

“You’re going to exhaust yourself, if you don’t calm down,” said Freud.

The doctor stared at me like he could see into my soul!

“Okay, lets get this therapy on the road. I’m going to give you an event and I want you to respond to it. Ready? Here we go:

“Oh, I forgot two items from the grocery store!”

I blurted out: “Oh god, I’m losing it. Could this be the beginning of dementia?”

“Now see, your response should have been:

“Well, I remembered the other eight items. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

I nodded.

Freud smiled and said: “Now I’m going to teach you a little memory trick. Sometimes there is an emotional component to your forgetfulness. Suppose you can’t recall the name of a person you couldn’t get along with. You remember your anger but you can’t remember the name. You need to counter the anger with humor. Think of a funny thing about that person. Humor encourages memory function. The anger response is gone and you can refocus on the name you want to recall. This trick is called, Distract So You Can Remember.”

“My brain was aching with all that information.”

Freud said: “I think you will be alright now. There probably isn’t a lot of things you forget.”

As I was leaving I said:

“There’s three things I forget a lot, names and faces and now I’ve forgotten the other thing!!!

The sign on the door said, “The Oldies Club”, Must Be At Least Three Score and Ten.

I opened the door and entered a large dimly lit room where six people, three men and three women, were sitting in a circle in deep discussion. They all stopped talking and looked at me. I explained I was thinking of joining the club and would they mind if I sat in the back and listened for a while.

They all smiled at me and nodded, pointing to a chair in the corner.

They introduced themselves to me. First, there was Dave, who had sparse grey hair and blemishes and age spots on his hands and face. He had two canes hanging on the back of his chair.

Then there was Tom, balding with deep wrinkles covering his face. But he had a twinkle in his eyes. He also had a cane hanging on his chair.

And then Jim, he had a big smile but it was almost toothless. He was in a wheelchair.

There was Martha, heavy-set and jolly with strands of grey hair hanging down on her face. She had a Zimmer frame parked at the side of her chair.

Next was Alice, she stammered when she talked and she had a thin face etched with wrinkles.

Lastly there was Mabel, her abundant grey hair was tied into a bun and she had a stern face. She reminded me of one of my old school teachers. She had an extremely thick cane hanging on her chair.

They all turned away from me and Dave said: “Okay, back to our discussion, what was it now? Oh yes, the positive self-talk needed to counter the fear of death!”

“I don’t fear death, it’s just the sickness, pain and suffering before death that bothers me,” said Mabel.

Alice spoke up: “Yes, I agree with Mabel. There is no pain in death, just nothingness.”

“Well, what bothers me,” said Jim, “ is the fear of not existing anymore, you know, a permanent end to life.”

‘I fear the unknown aspect of death, is there an afterlife or what will happen after death?” said Martha.

Tom commented: “What I fear is the loneliness connected with losing my loved ones and friends and I’m left!”

Alice started coughing which interrupted the discussion. She took some pills. She then took a deep breath and mumbled: “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could have a peaceful natural death?”

“Peaceful natural death, what’s that?” said Dave angrily. “All the oldies I’ve seen die have been sick, crippled and in the throes of dementia. They were soiling their beds and they were lonely and enduring extreme pain. It’s a slow agonizing process, which I want to avoid!”

They all stared at Dave, some shaking their heads and some nodding.

“What are you suggesting, Dave?” said Martha.

“If I end up like I just described, I would want to choose to die instead of enduring the lack of dignity and extreme pain of the dying process. I think we have the right to choose the time and conditions of our death!”

Jim said: “I feel the same way as Dave. I had a dream the other night that I was trapped in my wheelchair. I was in pain and I was slowly losing my memory. It was a terrible nightmare!”

Dave continued: “What I’m suggesting is called Self-Deliverance. It’s the taking of your own life to escape the suffering, pain and loss of your quality of life.”

“It’s not a nice thing to think about,” said Tom, “but you would want to stay alive as long as you enjoy your life.”

“Of course Tom, that’s what I mean, if you have your hobbies and people around you and can control your pain, your quality of life would still be there. So, consequently, you naturally would want to continue on as long as possible.”

Alice spoke up, slowly slurring her words: “I am in the first stages of dementia. I know it’s progressive and eventually I will lose all quality of life, but I don’t know if I could end my own life or be assisted!”

“That’s entirely your choice, Alice. All I’m saying is, we should all have the choice of when and how we die.”

Jim started laughing and said: “All I know is, I know I’m old because it takes longer for me to rest than to get tired!”

“Leave it to you Jim, to lighten things up.”

Tom joined in: “Every afternoon I have a happy hour just like my pub, it’s called a NAP!”

The whole club laughed.

Dave ended the discussion: “We all have to tell ourselves that we will stay alive as long as we ENJOY our life. It’s what we say to ourselves in response to any situation that determines our moods and feelings.”

Then Dave turned to me and said: “Well, are you going to join our club?”

As I walked out the door, I said: “I’m only 69, maybe I’ll see you in a year!”

As I was sipping my beer, I was looking at the oil paintings behind the bar at my favorite watering hole. In walked my Long Lost Cousin. He hopped up on a green padded stool and said:

“I’m a little depressed since I celebrated my 65^th birthday!”

“Bartender, give my cousin a whiskey. Now, why are you depressed?”

“Well, I read an article on the 50 signs of aging and I had all of them!” He took a sip of his whiskey.

“I probably would have them all too, but I accept “What Is” and get on with my life.”

“But cousin, now that I’m retired and don’t have to go to work anymore, I don’t want to age so fast!”

“Aging is natural, the progression of life, it’s a reality!”

“But why does it have to happen so quick that it sneaks up on you? I looked in the mirror this morning when I was naked and said to my wife:

“I’m old, fat and wrinkled. Cheer me up. Pay me a compliment.”

“Well,” she said, “Your eyesight is still good!” This is what I have to put up with!”

“Well, my cousin, it’s the effect of energy on your body. Like rain, sunshine and wind, it’s physical erosion. Wear and tear!”

“You’re making me feel worse than my wife does.”

“That’s just erosion from external sources. There’s internal erosion as well. Metabolism is the machinery of chemistry, billions of chemical reactions in the body, which drives life. It creates order out of chaos!”

“All this is going on in my body?”

“Yes, these chemical reactions over time create internal trash which accumulate over time. Cells die, some get renewed, but not all. It’s all part of living. With age our body becomes less efficient at detoxifying!”

“But cousin, I’m getting to be a physical and mental wreck! I’m stiff, losing my hair and I groan when I bend down. I forget names and I fall asleep in front of the TV after a glass of wine. It’s terrible!”

We sat in silence, drinking and staring at the oil paintings behind the bar. My LLC then spoke and broke the mood.

“And the article ended with this alarming statement: Aging fosters sickness, pain, suffering, dementia and makes us more likely to meet the grim reaper quicker!”

“Boy, you’re a bundle of sunshine!”

“But I don’t want to die faster. I want to delay it!”

“When it’s your time, it’s your time, nothing you can do about it. I don’t fear it because I don’t think there is anything in death; it is just eternal nothingness, oblivion.”

“Now whose a bundle of sunshine?” said my cousin grimly.

“Well cousin, we are growing older right here on these green padded stools!”

My cousin had a glazed look in his eyes and said:

“In my twenties, I never thought about growing older. I was in peak physical condition. In my thirties and forties, I got smarter and was still in good shape. But now in my sixties, I feel the negative effects of age: aches and pains, forgetfulness, wrinkles, grey hair or no hair! Cousin, can we stop aging?”

I smiled and ordered two more drinks for us.

“So cousin, you want a CURE for aging?”

“Yes, three score and ten is not enough time!”

“Maybe someday there will be a cure for aging. None of us want to spend our final years in physical pain and suffering from mental decline.”

My cousin gulped his whiskey in one go. And as he headed out the door, he said:

“All I know is that I don’t know how I got over the hill without making it to the top!”

My eyes opened, it was morning. I couldn’t move, it was sleep paralysis affecting me. I remembered the dream I had during my fitful sleep. I also remembered that I had a bad day the day before.

Some faceless person said to me:

“People don’t look at the Big Picture of life today! We are all going to die. Homo Sapiens will go extinct. The Sun will burn out and the Universe will collapse. Existence is temporary and pointless. We are all doomed!”

“I can see why people don’t want to look at the Big Picture,” I said.

Mr. Faceless said:

“Well, at least, it puts a bad day in perspective!”

So true, I thought.

Well, back to my dream. By the way I was still in paralysis!

I dreamt that an election was going on somewhere and when they opened the boxes, all the ballots were BLANK! Modern politics had become meaningless to the people.

There was a faceless person in my dream also. He said:

“Politics has descended into a struggle for power among a few unrepresentative elites. They ignore the views of the ordinary people who elected them.”

Mr. Faceless seemed to know what he was talking about.

“Why are politicians hell bent on getting us involved in foreign wars?” I said.

“Because they are seduced by the glamour of international statesmanship. It’s an ego thing,” said Faceless.

He continued:

“Domestic politics is too narrow in scope for the politicians. The problems of the electorate are not glamorous!”

Faceless kept talking:

“Another nightmare is Political Correctness.”

“What is that exactly?” I asked, to see if Faceless had a good definition.

“Well, it is a term which denotes language, ideas, policies and behavior aimed at minimizing offense and discrimination against supposedly disadvantaged people.”

“Sounds like a controlling and censoring strategy to me.”

“That’s right. The PC People are holding all the political parties down. None of them dare to put forth any policy that is not politically correct. So, we have all the big parties occupying the Center Ground.” Faceless was getting angry now. I knew because his voice was getting higher pitched.

“So, it’s pointless to bother to vote!” I said.

“You’ve got it in one.”

It was slightly disconcerting talking to someone who I couldn’t see any facial expressions.

“It’s the “Career Politicians” that are ruining our government.”

“How’s that?”

“They’re a self-seeking bunch that aren’t in the real world. They went to college then got a job helping a politician, and then they figured they could do the job themselves. They never held down a proper job, they have no business skills, hold no real political views, and they survive by being politically correct and sitting on the fence.”

“Well, from what you’ve told me, political correctness has thrown common sense out the window!”

Mr. Faceless was on a roll now:

“Political correctness is an attack on critical thinking, free speech and discussion. God help you if you offend anyone!”

“From what you’ve said, it sounds like PC could be the death of democracy!”

“That’s right.” He frowned.

“The dreaded PC has even killed our comedy! I’ve got a joke for you,” said Faceless, “I’ll tell you later!”

I got out of bed, my paralysis was gone!

I was sitting on my favorite green padded stool in “Dave’s Corner” at my favorite watering hole. Up popped a guy on the next stool. I studied him in the mirror behind the bar.

He was tall, tanned and muscular. I guessed in his mid 60’s. His long grey hair was combed back in a sort of duck-tail. His greying beard was immaculately trimmed. His piecing dark eyes noticed me watching him. He had a serious, determined look on his face.

After he ordered a beer, he spoke to me without prompting.

“The country is going to the dogs! Too many people demanding their rights, but nobody wants to talk about their responsibilities!”

“I totally agree with you. It’s a coincidence, I was just telling the bartender here that I counted over 50 rights people demand, but only 10 responsibilities came to mind. Five rights to one responsibility!”

Just then a drunk at the bar said:

“Hey, the service in this joint stinks,” he shouted.

“I will have to cut you off and tell you to leave,” said the bartender.

“Hey, hold on a minute, I have the right to freedom of speech!”

“Sorry, buddy, you have no rights when you bother other people and don’t take responsibility for your outbursts.”

The drunk left in a huff, mumbling he would take it up with his congressman.

I smiled and said: “We tend to divide rights into two categories, our rights, and their responsibilities. We need to start talking about Human Responsibilities!”

My stool partner spoke up: “The other night when I came home from work, my wife started laying into me about how she wanted to go out, she was going stir crazy!”

I shouted back: “I have the right to some peace and quiet when I come home from a hard day at the office!”

And she shouted: “I have a right to tell you how I feel!”

I smiled.

“That’s what is happening in the world now, conflicting rights. The idea that all humans have basic rights that exist simply because we belong to the human race. There  was a time when codified rights didn’t exist!”

Just then the drunk came back and said:

“My congressman told me, I have the right to say what I feel. Also, I have the right to expect respect from you. I have the right to be angry with you. And finally, I have the right not to be responsible for your problems! I have the right to act the way I want!”

On and on he babbled, even after they threw him out the door!

“That guy has more rights than human beings,” I laughed.

Everyone in the tavern roared with laughter.

“It’s all a matter of balancing my rights with your rights and taking responsibility to live with that balance.”

My drinking companion seemed to be a knowledgeable fellow.

“But can we change to accept out responsibilities? It’s easy to TALK about accepting responsibilities, but much harder to implement!”

“What do you think are the most important responsibilities?” I asked my bearded friend.

“Well, first, let me say that I believe you don’t have rights, which are entitlements or givens, without responsibilities, which are the obligations that go along with rights.”

“My sentiments exactly,” I chimed in.

“Now, some responsibilities people don’t usually think about are:

You are responsible for your decisions and their consequences.

You are responsible to contribute to society and adhere to the law.

And I will add, here, that criminals should have no rights or respect.

You have a responsibility to SPEAK and express yourself thoughtfully, truthfully and in a manner that builds a community, NOT to tear it down.”

“Well, that’s some real food for thought. Maybe people will change and accept these responsibilities, but change takes time and it will take more time if people don’t do it.”

My learned friend had a very serious expression on his face when he said:

“Many leaders in the world don’t accept their responsibilities. When we hand them the reigns of power, they must be held accountable for how they use that power. This is one of the failures of modern democracies.”

We ordered two more beers and started a lighter conversation.

Then the drunk stuck his head in the door and said:

“I’ve seen the light! My congressman has just told me that for every right I have, I also have a responsibility! I DON’T THINK I WILL VOTE FOR HIM AGAIN!”

Have you ever met a person who disagrees with everything you say? Well, I have, my lunch companion at a writer’s do in London.

Every time I came up with a statement, he would say:

“Yes, but…”

“I totally disagree…”

“You are very wrong…”

I think people like this are trying to be superior to you through disagreement.

When you analyze it, argument is a battle of egos. When you agree with someone’s point of view, you lose! When you disagree, you then are asserting your ego, indicating your superiority! It’s an all out battle between competing egos.

For instance, I said:

“I think women believe in psychics and fortune tellers more than men do.”

“You are very wrong there,” said my disagreeing companion.

“Women use logic just as much as men do,’ he added.

“The reason I made that statement is because women have “fun” with fortune tellers, even if they don’t believe them entirely.”

“I totally disagree with you.”

I re-filled my wine glass. I could see I’d need a fair amount of drink to put up with this guy!

“If a woman has a humdrum routine as a house maker, she may enjoy an escape offered by psychics and fortune tellers.”

“Yes, but, what about the career woman who is too intelligent for such nonsense?”

“Women use their emotions more than men do and I think even the career woman would enjoy a little of the escapism.”

He then turned to someone else to disagree with. I was left with a few minutes of peace to eat my lunch!

When he turned back to me, I thought I’d lighten things up, so I told him a joke.

“The best way to get a woman to argue with you is to say something!”

“Hey, that’s not funny, what have you got against women?”

Boy oh boy, this guy even disagrees over a joke!

I took another sip of wine. I was feeling bold now, so I threw another statement out for his ears.

“I’m fed up with the Nanny State.”

“What do you mean? We need someone to help us with decisions!”

“I just think the government tries to regulate our personal behavior too much.”

“You’re wrong, again. Someone has got to ram info home to us.”

“Don’t you think people should be able to make their own decisions about their behavior and then take responsibility for the resulting effects?”

“I disagree, most people don’t know what’s good for them.”

I shook my head in frustration!

“Well, lets take the case of government telling us about a healthy diet and telling us what to eat.”

“Too many people are fat, someone has to read the riot act to them!”

“Well, I think most of us are educated enough to tell what foods are good for us and what foods are bad for us. In the end it’s our choice. You must take responsibility for yourself. Don’t blame fast food places, blame yourself if you’re obese.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Well, arguments have two sides, but no end,” I smiled.

Would this man ever agree with anything I say?

I thought I’d try one more statement.

“In a blindfold test, most people can’t distinguish between whisky and cognac.”

“Nonsense, I can.”

I ordered a shot of whisky and a shot of cognac, and blindfolded my friend with his napkin. I shuffled the glasses around and then had him sniff and taste them.

The one he said was cognac was whisky!

“I got discombobulated when I was blindfolded,” he mumbled.

I thought I’d enlighten him a little.

“What’s the difference between whisky and cognac? Well, whisky is distilled from grain. Cognac is made from grapes. They both are aged in oak barrels. Sometimes, they look and taste similar.”

When he got up to leave, he said:

“I still don’t agree with anything you’ve said!”

I smiled and said:

“Never argue with an IDIOT; he will drag you down to his level and beat you with EXPERIENCE!”

My cousin showed up at my house looking worried.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t remember my wife’s name! What should I do?”

“I suggest you start calling her pet names, like Honey, My Love, Sweetheart, etc. until you can recall her name.”

My cousin looked quizzical.

“Also, the other day, I went to the store and forgot what I went for!”

“Senior moments, my friend, after all you’re over sixty!”

My cousin had a frightened expression now.

“I’m not getting dementia, am I?”

“Calm down, cousin, and take a Prozac!”

“I’m all out of those, I’ll take an aspirin instead.”

“You’re not getting dementia. What’s happening is your memory is changing! Info is processed slower and recall is slower.”

“Is that normal?”

“Yes, it’s part of the aging process. Slightly slower processing leads to awareness, because of aging, allows us to see and understand things better.”

“Oh cousin, you make it sound so good! So, the changes in memory that we have to adapt to, are bothersome but not debilitating.”

“You’ve got it, cousin! Things that came naturally to you, now you must concentrate more on them, that’s why learning new things now takes more effort.”

My cousin turned to leave and as he was walking out the door, he said:

“Life must go on, but I forgot WHY!”