Senior Moments

    At my wife Wendy’s water aerobics class recently, a 92-year-old participant ran into a problem in the women’s locker-room.  Her key wasn’t unlocking her lock.   No matter how she twisted and turned the key, the lock wouldn’t release.  Others tried to help with the same result.  So they called the building attendant and he came by with bolt-cutters and cut the miscreant lock free.

    When the elderly woman opened the locker, she discovered something else.  The clothes inside the locker were not her’s.  Yes, she had unwittingly broken into someone else’s locker.

     OK, I’m not there yet.  But I’ve had a few senior moments myself that says I’m getting close.  A couple of those incidents involve the local library.  Recently I was at the library when I searched my wallet for my library card so I could sign onto the computer.  Looked once, looked twice but both times with the same result.  No library card in the billfold.  So I signed up for a guest pass instead.

     Later when I got home I reached into my pants pocket and, voila, pulled out the missing library card.  I can only guess that I must have pulled my library card from my wallet earlier, thinking that I would need it at the library later.  Then I put it in my pocket and forgot about it.

     Telling the story later to other members of my family, they said it still doesn’t top the time I drove to the library, then walked home forgetting how’d I gotten there.  Of course, I later discovered our car was missing.  It took longer than it should have for me to figure out where our car was and how that happened.

      This week we watched our three grandsons and I took the oldest—Grant, 6 and Luke, 4—to the Ann Arbor Hands-on Museum.  It was a little more hectic than expected with four stories filled with wonderful activities to do.  But I’d been there recently (see last month’s blog) so I wasn’t worried about getting lost.

     But in a way, I did.  Just as we were wrapping up a final tour of the place, Luke ran ahead and I somehow got separated from Grant.  After several frantic minutes searching, a concerned woman noticed us and said, “Are you looking for a lost boy?”

     “Yes?” I said.

    “Is his name Grant?”

     Oh, boy.  Right again.  He had been found crying and was taken to the desk at the entrance where an attendant stood over him.  He explained later, “I lost grandpa.”

     So I collected Grant and all three of us returned to the car.  After making sure they were securely fastened in their seats, seat belts and all, I noticed my camera was not in my pocket.  Dang.  Must have lost it like I did during my last trip here (though it was returned to me later).  I said so out loud too.

      I stood there collecting my thoughts, trying to figure out the best way to get the camera back, when I opened the driver’s side door and spotted the camera in a compartment there.  I must have put it there and forgot about it as I was getting the grandboys settled in their seats.

     “I think grandpa’s losing it,” I grumped loudly.

      “But now you’ve found it,” Luke responded seriously.

     I just hope so.  I really do.