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.

I was taken to the Comcast Arena recently to see "Cats." This is a show I have longed to see since the day it opened on Broadway in NYC. That morning I was watching the television show, "Good Morning America." I saw and heard Betty Buckley sing "Memory" as she played the part of the sad old cat, Grizabella. I fell in love with both the actress and the song.

Later when I finally got around to trying to play an organ, I acquired the sheet music and struggled to learn it. I never became very proficient, and have long since given up the effort. But I felt an old urge attack when I learned of the production coming to Everett. I muttered something to that effect in front of some daughters and arrangements were made.

I seem to get a lot of perks these days that were not part of my earlier life. I am assuming with this show my birthday celebration has finally come to a close. But the memory lingers on, and triggers others long past.

This birthday was a bit more complicated than previous ones. It started with a party at one granddaughter's home, with a huge crowd almost all related to me. If you read my last column in The Outlook, you'll know I was involved in a mugging, which injured a granddaughter but left me unscathed. The visit was extended to take care of the injured.

When I finally came home, the newspapers were piled up on my sofa, along with a second notice. I'd forgotten to pay for the daily paper. Well I'm 84, you know. I don't feel the phone bills were my fault. My carrier had some months earlier bundled my bills. In my absence they decided not to be partners, and rearranged the payment plan. It took two trips to the office in Lakewood Commons to take care of that one, and I'm not sure I've got it straight yet.

It was also time to get our Stilly Singers songs ready for the next two months of performances. It took a couple of days typing and then a lot of sorting and arranging. My co-workers must get pretty frustrated with me. I am by nature a procrastinator. But we got it done.

Daylight Savings Time arrived and I got my extra hour back, for which I'm extremely grateful, but found I was now oversleeping. My morning schedule needed readjustment. Been late a few times. I checked my calendar and was relieved I had not missed any important appointments. Then one daughter called to remind me I needed to be ready for my birthday present. Birthday present? That was two months ago.

"But we bought tickets!" she said.

I think I combed my hair in time. A haircut is at least a month overdue. I was dressed and ready.

It all got me to thinking about other birthdays. I think they have always been a little frantic. My parents were a bit older. They did all the right things, though not always in the usual order. They traveled with me in the back seat of an Oakland 8 for a year and a half, then settled to place me in school. I'd had a birthday just before the trip. It was memorable only because the little girl across the street wouldn't let go of my present.

I had a few months in first grade to make friends, one of whom I still talk to, frequently. One of whom I would never get along with. She liked to pinch. After several pinches I turned around and slapped her. She ran crying to my father in the kitchen. He came after me, upended me and spanked me thoroughly. So my first grade birthday is remembered as the one when I got spanked. The perpetrator stood in front of my face, smiling as it occurred. I have a long memory.

Most of the next few are blurs, though I recall having parties. Early adulthood proved too busy to think much about it. I was taken out for dinner, a treat on our young budget. My children began taking over. I can't really remember when.

But the last few years, things seem to have gotten more confusing. I don't adjust as well as I once did. And there are so many more people involved. Plans seem to take as much engineering as did D-Day landings. I don't always hear what they tell me, or I forget, and they have to remind me. I think I'm being organized. I find I don't even care. I just go with the flow. And I finally got to see "Cats." What a memory!

And now we've had Easter. And spring. Daffodils are blooming all over the place. Soon I will be able to sit on my deck and read the daily paper. (It's now paid for.) And I will have my coffee in the sunlight, with Bandit the cat in my lap. Everything is new again. Isn't life good?