Purple berries and canaries
What goes first? The first thing to go is the memory? The hearing? The eyesight? No. The first thing must have been participation in pop culture. I dropped out sometime before Michael Jackson lost his glove and Madonna got her training bra. I was too busy raising sons to tune the radio dial.
Told friends I saw David Crosby and Stephen Stills at an Independence Day event. Their response was, "Oh, yeah, wasn't Crosby the sperm donor for Melissa Etheridge's children?" Well, yes, if Jerry Garcia was primarily a necktie designer.
So, this is what happens. You age. You like opera and oldies, and think drinking coffee from a "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" coffee cup might make you smart enough to solve Will Shortz's crossword puzzle. You remember Watergate like it was yesterday, but can't remember when you changed the filter for your Brita pitcher. The only thing that keeps you climbing back up the trail is dread of imposing on your kids making them haul you on a makeshift stretcher back to the car.
Say, can I have some of your purple berries?
Yes. I've been eating them for six or seven weeks now, haven't got sick once.
Probably keeps us both alive.
© 2012 Nancy L. Ruder