Now I Understand

Seeing a Reader's Digest in large print used to be the joke of the month to me, but now it's something to be considered.  With each passing day of age being added, I understand more and more the adage:  With age comes with understanding.

I understand the need for large print books, or a page magnifier.  I understand why I forget what I was looking for, or why I forget what I was going to say.  I forget what I was looking for, and what I was going to say, because I've misplaced my short term memory, and can't remember where I left it.

I'm fairly certain that the person who created Rice Krispies was a person of a certain age.  Otherwise, how would they ever understand the snap, crackle, pop?  With age comes understanding, and it's often things we would rather not understand.

Laser?  Oh I understand the desire to have hair lasered off.  What I don't understand is why they use young, beautiful people for those ads?  It's us old people, or people of a certain age, who should be on those billboards. They should be holding tweezers, and nose hair clippers, and razors, and, oh the list goes on.  I don't want to understand why hair grows where it grows, and stops growing where it should grow.

I understand now that blank look an older person gives you when you stop to speak to them.  I understand it's not a look of idiocy.  It's a look of searching within for a name of the person standing in front of you.  It's the blank look of searching through the memory files that are pretty much depleted of all things, except the memory of a sleepless night, because of all the aches and pains, and the worry of things that can't be fixed.  And when they say, "Do I know you?"  You gently explain to them that yes, you are their niece, their neighbor of 25 years, their child's best friend since grade school.  Too bad at that time you don't have the understanding that comes with age, because you would be more understanding of the blank look you are seeing, and will one day be your look.

I understand why older people say, "Don't mumble."  It's not about you mumbling, it's about them not hearing what you said to begin with, and it sounded like all your words ran together like a pile up on I-40.  Speak louder, talk slower, and do not walk away from me while talking to me.  I will only ask you what you said, or I will just ignore you completely, because if you can't talk without mumbling, or you can't talk louder, or if something in the other room is more important than talking to me, why I should I care if I heard you.

And having said all of that, I now understand why older people are thought of as grumpy.  It makes me grumpy when I can't find my glasses, and then when I find them I can't remember why I needed them.  It makes me grumpy to stand up and hear the snap, crackle, pop of aging bones, and know that they are my aging bones.  It makes me grumpy to find hairs sprouting out of my chin.  It makes me grumpy when I see someone who know me, and I can't remember them.  It makes me grumpy when people  mumble when they should be speaking clearly.

I'm aging, so with aging comes understanding.