Senior Moments

Give me a minute and I’ll remember what I was writing about. Oh yeah, Senior Moments. You know, those times when you forget things. When something is on the tip of your tongue or in the corner of your brain.
Living in an over 55 community it’s a rather common occurrence. Or I think it is. Can’t really remember if it is or not. But give me another minute. Sometimes I can remember my entire third grade class and then not remember why I walked into the kitchen.
Did a job for some neighbors the other day. Was on a ladder balancing a ceiling fan. The lady of the house related a story about her senior moment. She was telling a friend about a movie she liked. A movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. But she couldn’t remember the name of the movie so she kept describing it to her friend in hopes that it would jar her memory. Ironically, the movie was Total Recall.
Of course we all laugh at those moments. Usually in the retelling, if only to ourselves. In private. I don’t feel so bad about my lifelong inability to remember names anymore. It was introduced one minute and the next completely gone from my memory. It was quite embarrassing. Even tried name association. But after erroneously calling someone Mr. Hare because he reminded me of a rabbit, I gave that up. Now I just blame it on having a Senior Moment. Or as those of us that live here call it, a Solera Moment. That’s the name of our small community. No wait, yeah that’s it, just looked it up, so I know that’s correct.
Made a list of things needed at Home Depot. Things for jobs and things for home. Rewrote it several times. Grouped by where they would be found in the store. OK, so it’s a bit much, but in my days as a Handy Man it made sense and saved time. Plus, if needed, I could actually tear the list in half and give it to my helper. Naturally I had to translate it for him, but it was a good system. Anyway, so off I go to Home Depot. Half way there I realize that the list is still at home. In my office. Next to the light bulb that I was going to take along to ensure the correct replacement would be gotten.
But it’s part of life, these Solera Moments. Part of what is euphemistically called the aging process. Getting old, making our way down the road of life. A way of reminding us or our mortality. A reminder, gentle and otherwise, that it’s OK to be fallible. To be human. Well, gotta go, just remembered why I went to the kitchen in the first place.

Vegas

On my way home from my disastrous adventure to cross Iowa on my bike, I stopped in Vegas. There I spent the night with, Dick, and his wife Jeanette. I’ve known Dick since grade school, maybe third grade. He’s always been a nice guy and it was nice to see him again. The last time was about ten years ago at our high school reunion. It was there that we reconnected after many, many years of making our separate ways through life.
I arrived about noon from Salt Lake City after having taken the wrong exit. Well, it was the right exit but off the wrong freeway. But that’s another story. Dick is a very capable direction giver and in no time I was pulling up in front of his home. It was about 102 degrees which to those of us that live in Bakersfield is no big deal.
He and his wife greeted me warmly despite her headache. He and I quickly settled at the dining room table while she, as most wives do, retired to another room. I mean, not many wives want to sit around while a couple of old farts reminisce about their glory days. Of course, the older we get, the better we were and besides, our wives have already heard all that crap. At least a thousand times before.
After a few minutes he asked if I’d like to see the sights. Of course I said yes. Hell, I had money burning a hole in my pocket ready to hand over to any casino in town. First of course, we stopped for some lunch. Then we got back in his car and I was ready to hit the Craps tables. That’s my favorite form of losing, er, that is, gambling. But boy was I wrong.
In short order, we were heading out of town along a two lane highway. In a matter of a few minutes right in front of us were some craggy mountains. Beautiful in red and white and shades of brown. Then we entered Red Rock Canyon. Whooda thunk it? In Vegas? A beautiful, picturesque and totally awesome vision of nature at its finest. It almost left me speechless. This is, to those that know me, quite a feat. And I quickly forgot about giving the casinos my money.
Dick teaches landscape at Southern Nevada Community College and is consequently very familiar with the local plant life. After touring the visitor center, we drove a scenic loop with stops along the way for a little closer look at the incredible rock formations. He pointed out different plants describing their family roots (pun intended). What a big difference being shown around by a knowledgeable guide. It was fascinating hearing about desert plants.
He also mentioned that there are petroglyphs and hiking trails, some with year round creeks. I asked what time of year would be best to return to explore some of the canyons. He quickly replied that April was when the creeks were at their fullest and the flowers were all in bloom. He added that I was welcome to come anytime. It’s possible he might be sorry to have made that offer as I am definitely going to try to get back in April.
I left for home the next day with a whole new perspective of Vegas. Like most others I never thought of Vegas as having homes with people living in them and certainly not as having such natural beauty. I came home richer. Not just because I didn’t leave any money at the casinos. I’m richer for experiencing Red Rock Canyon with an old friend.