The Coonridge Digest: On the slippery slope

Greetin’s from the Ridge.

How do some people do it?

Emily Franklin told me that I have six payments left on my car. I’d mentioned to her that I might be looking to trade before long and she told me, "Well, you bought the car in October of 2002 and you usually take two years to pay one off. I guess it’s time to start looking."

How does she do that? I had no idea how many payments I had left, I had no idea what month I bought the car, and when I last went to get my oil changed and they asked me the year of the car I lied and said 2003. Fact is, I couldn’t remember. How does she?

My dearest friend Margaret absolutely lives in anticipation of catching the latest disease. I swear that if a new flu epidemic hits and Margaret doesn’t get conked with a good dose of it, she gets depressed. But what makes it even more irritating is that she’s another of those who absolutely dote on dates.

"Freida, you know I had my gall bladder removed in April of ’98 and it was until January of ’99 that I really started feeling myself again."

"You remember those dates, Margaret?"

"It’s my gall bladder, Freida! Of course I remember those dates. Good grief! Wouldn’t you?"

"Margaret, I don’t even remember if I have a gall bladder."

"And it’s easy to remember because my husband’s cousin came to visit on February 3rd of that year and she stayed until the 21st. A real blessing to me."

"You know when she arrived and when she left?"

"Not exactly. It was some time between 2 and 2:15 when she got here. I can’t remember precisely."

"That is ridiculous, Margaret! How can you possibly remember what time your husband’s cousin arrived five years ago?"

"I looked at my watch."

The last time I went to have my driver’s license renewed they asked my age. They had my date of birth right in front of them and they knew the current date. All in the world they had to do was subtract. It was obvious to me that this was an insidious little part of the driver’s test designed to test my state of mind. I panicked. I couldn’t remember.

"Oh, too old!" I laughed.

The little gal in the official Secretary of State shirt just stared.

I tried again. "You know it changes every year!"

Apparently a sense of humor is not on the top ten list of requirements for government work.

"Do you have a Kleenex?" I shot a counterfeit but effective sneeze in her direction that caused her to wipe off her application and move to the next question.

"Married?"

What in blazes that had to do with my driving I do not know, but I was so happy to know the answer to a question that I shot back, "Lord Almighty, Yes!"

My friend Emily could have told her the years, number, and minutes she’d been alive on the earth, and Margaret could have recited the attending doctor’s social security number. I had to sneeze my way out of it.

How do some people do that?

About twenty years ago, brain research came out with the "section" theory of brain activity, claiming that certain parts of our brain are better developed than others and therefore you can be right or left-brained. This was a personal breakthrough for me, since for the first time I could entertain the possibility that my problem just might not be plain stupidity.

The good news is that while most of us in my generation live in fear of falling victim to one of the increasing number of brain maladies… dementia, Alzheimer’s, watching the Home Shopping Network… I can find some solace in the fact that I won’t much notice it. On the slippery slope to losing my mind, I’m already halfway down the hill.

How do some people do that?

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.