March 22, 2007 Issue

It’s probably psychological but I recently had one of those birthdays ending in zero that force you to contemplate the world and your place in it, check the body for dents and rust and wonder how it will all end. Perhaps it was the surprise party my brother had for me the day before the actual day or the sudden and unexpected appearance of my sister, but on the actual day of my birthday I seemed incapable of even the simplest tasks.

I prepared the coffeepot carefully, adding extra water because of my guest. The pot gurgled, but no scent was forthcoming because I forgot to put the coffee in the filter. I had a great pot full of hot water. Tea anyone?

Later in the day when I was making arrangements for someone to come and look at my sick clothes dryer, I couldn’t remember my cell phone number. While buying a blanket in Penney’s I couldn’t seem to understand when the clerk asked me to sign on the dotted line on one of those little credit card signature machines, although I’ve used them dozens of times.

My birthday was also the fourth anniversary of the start of the war in Iraq. As the war shows no signs of stopping and as the president announces it will be months, rather than weeks before effects of the surge will be seen, I suspect my next birthday will reveal little change in American foreign policy. It’s tough to get behind the predictions of a leader who has been so wrong for so long, but I’ll not dwell on it because it just depresses me. Depression among the elderly can be serious, don’t ya know?

What I do know about myself is I am terribly, terribly tired of violence, anger, pettiness and divisive behavior. These days I won’t go see a movie — no matter how highly touted — if there is a large violence quotient attached, which pretty much eliminates any movies by Martin Scorsese or Clint Eastwood. I simply do not want to be brought down by graphic examples of how people can hurt each other or see more examples of war than I already see on the nightly news.

In my personal life I strive to be pleasant and patient. Incompetence offends me and one encounters it everywhere, but I make a mighty effort not to let it get to me. I take a deep breath and try to explain — one more time — to the person at the Sears repair center that I only have one clothes dryer and perhaps the other one that pops up in her computer belongs to my brother or someone else with my last name. It is not computing and she insists it is mine. She further insists I bought my present dryer in 1996, but gee, my receipt is dated March 1995, so I think I’m right. March 1995 is also when I moved to this region, so the date sticks in my mind, even when other data is flying out of there at the speed of light. Ultimately I was able to convince this young woman that sometimes people move and sometimes the data on computers is wrong. I hope I have an easier time with the repairman.

This year I have vowed to improve myself also. If it is my fate to keep on breathing, I best do something about my container.

In mid-January I stopped smoking, for what I hope is the last time. I’ve stopped before, but it hasn’t held. It’s a shame — I rather like smoking — but there is no denying that it isn’t good for you, it really stinks, and it robs you of oxygen. For me the times I want a cigarette the most are when I am writing and when I am driving my car for more than an hour or so. If I could somehow be allowed to have cigarettes on those occasions and not at all the rest of the time, the world would be grand. But it doesn’t work that way. It is all or nothing, and nothing has to win. Once I am positive I’ve conquered this obstacle, I have several other self-improvement options to choose from. That’s the beauty of the living process; there is always room for improvement of the product.

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