Senior Daze

by Katie Bourg

About Katie: Having arrived in time for the Great (?) Depression, WWII, and all other 20th century problems, I am endowed with long and varied memories. Writing classes have long been my home away from home. Other people's stories are fascinating, and sharing is growth at its best. Hope you seniors will join me with your stories. Try it. You'll like it.

In a world of strange and wonderful things, I find myself totally confused some days. I look at cell phones, ringing in all the wrong places. Giving up information way beyond the 'number please' of my youth. Five-year-olds don't even have to stand on chairs and Grandmother's catalogs to reach the delights of the party line. They are available within every woman's purse, man's pocket, movie theaters, and all kinds of improper places. The word 'available' has taken on a whole new meaning.

They have also become one of the most disruptive forces in our society. Just try to concentrate on your French fries when someone is complaining about their latest run-in with a relative or bragging about their questionable sex life. I say questionable, because it has become so easy to exaggerate when you don't have to face the listener, who is probably waiting for a break in your story to tell their own, anyway. Unfortunately, if you are at the next table, you have no choice but to listen.

The computer can display wonders all over the world. A Sunday drive to see new sights is no longer necessary. Punch a key or two and you can be any place on earth. If you need directions for some reason, the GPS will take you on the right route, and show you what it looks like before you get there. With my son's new phone, you don't even need to sit down with a 'puter to get what you want.

The problem is, all this new technology keeps us so busy, nobody has time to go there. And if you did, it would probably be an anticlimax. You've already seen everything. Except the people at home you no longer have time for.

And food! What a wonderful experience in under five minutes. Want Italian? Just go to the freezer, where it awaits the pleasure of your palate. All you need is a microwave and a knife sharp enough to slice through the multiple layers of plastic covering, which may or may not cause cancer. Specialty dishes can be on your table--or lap--in minutes. So can the excessive fat and carbs you don't need. But they taste so good.

The television has been around long enough to be out of good material. Still it keeps you up to date on war, cruelty, sex and murder. It's Facebook with a bigger face. You might even be able to play the farm game, including pigs, if you so wish. You can build the farm at night, when the things you watched all day keep you awake. That might help minimize the terrifying sights behind your eyelids.

Monday is no longer washday. Any old time works with automatic washers. And new materials require little or no ironing. Haven't hung a sheet on an outside line since I was a girl. Don't plan to, ever again. Nice. No standing around in the cold, trying to open clothespins with wet fingers. My kids may not have ever heard of clothespins. I must mention that to them. Keep them humble.

Modern education brings us far beyond the family doctor. He had to know everything. If he didn't, nobody knew the difference. At any hour of the day or night, he would crawl out of his bed if you needed him. If he liked the bottle a little too much, well, he was still the most revered man in many a community, and a talking point at all neighborhood gatherings. His unfortunate habits were excusable, because he came when called, helped when possible, and eased the passing to whatever the patient had earned beyond. Nice, but not so efficient.

Today, you join health plans, and wait your turn to be sick. When you do see the primary physician, he hands you pills, papers, and instructions to come again. If you display no interesting symptoms, that could be some time in the future. If you have a serious problem, it might cost you your home and hearth, creating a new serious problem. As for doctor's habits, well, that is the doctor's business. Go home and take your pills. And cling to your mortgage, as long as possible.

The exotic and out of season foods that grace our tables are wonderful, their origins frequently mysterious. Whoever heard of strawberries or cantaloupe in January? They don't have to come from the Farmer in the Dell. They take wings and arrive from Guatemala, Mexico, Australia. With modern transportation, they can be anywhere, anytime, free from spoilage.

The same can be said for evil men, who no longer kill in their own land. They just hop on a plane wearing death-dealing shoes or shorts. With gay abandon, they can blow themselves to bits and take everyone else with them. Or commandeer a plane to fly into a building, killing even more. They expect heavenly reward for eliminating any who do not agree with their beliefs. We've become their targets, for accepting our own beliefs that are no longer allowed on display. Funny reason for wholesale slaughter.

I really don't mean to complain. I would not voluntarily go back to the washboard of my mother's youth. And I don't think anyone else would. It's just that some days all our conveniences seem overwhelming. And environmentalists keep spelling out our self-imposed doom, because of what we've done to our own back yard.

Still, I don't hear anyone offering to go back in time.

Do you?