MIND LAPSES

by Dennis Greene

When I call on my fragile mind to multi-task, things often end badly.

For instance, in 1967, I attended Stu Lasky’s wedding in Scarsdale with my college roommate Kenny Fox and his parents, my “second family.”

As we sat in the synagogue waiting for the ceremony to begin, I noticed a beautiful Asian girl sitting alone a few rows away.  It looked like she knew no one. This was during that wonderful interim between the disappearance of my acne and the appearance of my receding hairline, so I was flushed with a modicum of confidence.  I forced myself into action and found myself inviting her to come and join us.  She told me her name was Noella Luke, happily accepted the invitation, and smiled.  I was enchanted.  As we walked back to join the Foxes, my brain was churning. I was listening to Noella tell me how she knew the bride; I was imagining what our children might look like; and I was complimenting myself on this very mature, thoughtful, and cool move.  Before I had time to prepare myself, we arrived at our seats, and I began to introduce Noella to the Foxes, but after “Noella, I’d like you to meet Mr. and Mrs….” I drew a blank. I could not recall their name.  I became speechless and froze, the temperature went up to about 110 degrees, sweat began to pour down my brow, and there was about thirty seconds of awkward silence before the Foxes introduced themselves. I knew that my overloaded brain’s failure to come up with the name “Fox” had managed to turn a major victory into a humiliating defeat. I have to learn to focus more on what I am doing.

This past weekend, I bought a $20 sheet of coupons from a kid raising money for the Wellesley High baseball team, and I decided to use one of the coupons as an excuse to get a forbidden pizza. I drove to Wellesley Center and found a parking place not far from the Upper Crust. As I was unbuckling my seatbelt, I remembered that I had a parking meter app on my phone.  I activated my iPhone, got out of the car, and paid the fee.  Then, I went into a nearby bookstore.  After a half hour chat with the owner, I strolled over to the Upper Crust, ordered a small pepperoni and mushroom pizza, and ate it while reading Ringworld. Forty-five minutes later, I emerged from the restaurant and headed back to my car, patting my pockets quickly, looking for my keys.  I didn’t find them.  I repeated the search, more slowly.  I didn’t have them.   I considered whether I might have left them in the Upper Crust or in the bookstore.  Then it occurred to me that they might be in the ignition.  After a brief moment of panic, I spotted my car, so I knew it hadn’t been stolen, and I was soon close enough to see that the keys actually were in the ignition.  No harm done, luckily.   And with a sigh of relief, I slid into the driver’s seat, buckled my seatbelt, and reached to turn on the ignition.   It was already on!  The car engine had been running for the past hour and a half.  Another brain malfunction.  These have recently been occurring  more frequently.

How does one tell the difference between normal “aging brain” malfunctions and the onset of more serious dementia?  Is my undependable old brain even capable of distinguishing the difference?  I worry about myself, and all of us.

It is clear that the magnitude of the distraction required to trigger a brain lapse has been reduced significantly for me over the years. In 1967 the smile and attention of the young woman of my fantasies, while I was taking an unprecedented social risk, reduced me to a catatonic state.  That is easily understandable. It was an important moment for me.

But, last week, my brain short-circuited because I got excited about using a new parking fee app.  That’s just sad.

Dennis spent five years as an engineer and then forty as a lawyer–and sixty as a pop culture geek and junkie.  He’s been writing blog articles for BOLLI Matters in quite a variety of genres:  science fiction, movie and video picks, creative nonfiction, and memoir.  This month, he provides us with this “Senior Moment” as feature writer Eleanor Jaffe addresses a concern “On Her Mind.”

“POST MORTEM”

By Eleanor Jaffee

How do you know when to throw in the towel?  When is “enough” really “enough”?  What are the signs that tell you, “You know, honey/mister, this job/project/course is taking too much out of you”?

On the other hand…a good challenge is hard to discard.  A well-honed skill or series of skills may be a treasured part of your repertoire, and if you give that up, then what?

Most of us experienced this internal dialogue when we retired from our paying careers: teacher, engineer, physician, or business person.  These occupations were relentlessly full-time—week, month, and year in and out.  As a bridging activity after retirement, and perhaps forever after, until the inevitable end of the road, some of us become SGLs who create, plan, revise, and then lead courses for our fellow BOLLI members.  I recommend this undertaking, but it can be a real challenge!

I have created and led about ten courses, always building on old knowledge and experience but adding new challenges and new learning along the way.  It’s much like adding new wings or extensions to an existing building.  In this way, I have taught four different courses about immigration to the U.S., three different courses about aspects of aging, and one course on the history of marriage (co-led) through fiction.  And most recently, this one just past:  “Resistance and Resilience in Politics and In Life.”

This year, I literally outdid myself.  So riled up was I, so upset about our current political morass and its potential for real harm to our country and beyond, that I created a course about politics and the necessity for resilience and resistance in these perilous times.  I was satisfied with my goals (although they were perhaps too far-reaching), but keeping up with the daily political changes, mis-steps, crises, and mind-blowing emergencies in daily news coverage was a huge challenge.  Between scandalous, heartbreaking and frightening “breaking news,” “fake news,” and tweets, I was constantly updating and revising plans for each class.  How much could I include and still make sense of it all?  How much of what was going on in Washington and around our country (and the world) could we discuss in one class?  My brain was on overload as I read and clipped newspaper and magazine articles and tried to stuff new information into my brain.

If I am giving the impression that I was on overload, that is true.  I forgot some important things like hearing aid batteries one day, and on another day, I actually left all my teaching materials at home.  Two successive week called for two nervous and hurried trips home to get essential materials that had been forgotten.  And then, I rose to the occasion, and the class went well.

The class and I concluded our studies, mutually pleased with our learning and camaraderie.  I hope I met my goal of encouraging more informed political activism whether in the form of marches, contacting elected officials, making crucial phone calls, writing letters to the editor, or supporting worthwhile organizations.  Our participation is crucial if we are to turn this mess around!

I look forward to a good rest.   But during a much needed swim this morning (where I do some of my best and most creative thinking),  I swam into a new possibility for a course, one I know something about.  “Swan Songs” — Creativity and Resourcefulness in Seniors!  Now, let’s see.  Where did I leave my towel?

As I grow older, I am more interested in the conditions, changes, services, culture, and even politics affecting me, my husband of 53 years, my friends — and my 104 year old mother.  What does it mean to be growing older in today’s society?