Month: January 2023

January 2023

By Richard Fleming

Driving a car these days is not what it used to be. The culture of driving has transformed. Getting behind the wheel feels more like a competitive video game than an exercise in safe transport. Driving a mile to the grocery store or 25 miles to visit the grandkids in Berkeley has become more Mario Kart and less SimCity.

When I navigate the roadways in 2023 I feel like a tortoise. Drivers routinely zip past. They cut me off at the last second to take an exit ramp. And they tailgate, even when I’m going 70 in the slow lane. I used to think right-of-way meant the car on the right had priority at a 4-way stop. I must have missed the memo when the DMV changed this rule. Now the youngest person at the intersection can dash through first. Right-of-way priority is determined by who executes the briefest rolling stop.

I am so nostalgic for the good old days when driving was a communal activity and we were all communards.

I can’t figure out what led to this change, which started 4-5 years ago. Early on, I assumed it was external factors. Perhaps driver ed classes had declined in quality. Maybe drivers didn’t realize how fast they were going because they were focused on their traffic-enabled, real-time-route-adjusting, fancy-colored-map GPS navigation systems with myriad streaming music options. Or they were caught up in multi-tasking, doing their IG (Instagram) while driving.

But I recently started to reconsider. I wonder whether the change may not be external. Maybe it is me. I don’t need a complete physical exam to know I am saddled with poorer vision, slowing reflexes, and a less flexible neck than five years ago. For much of my life, I considered senior drivers to be pokey, unsafe, risky specimens. Lo, I now meet the definition of being a senior driver.

Mind you, I’m not one of those fogeys who mosey along at 50 MPH on the freeway. I do maintain certain standards, after all.

But I tend to obey traffic regulations more carefully than I used to. Nowadays I rarely exceed the speed limit by 5 MPH, in town or on the freeway. After a few too many close calls with pedestrians in the crosswalks, my rolling stops have become primarily a historical phenomenon.

I have decided to accept the title of Mr. Tortoise as a badge of maturity. Maybe even of honor. I understand and recognize my role in the driving ecosystem has evolved. And that is why my car insurance payment is lower than my kids’.

My current approach to driving approximates Aesop’s story of The Tortoise and the Hare. I tootle along, ignoring the jackrabbits darting behind me, in front, and to my side. Let them risk life and limb. I’m on a mission. I have purpose. I motor down the road with confidence and assurance. I could care less about swooping in and out of traffic. I know the hares will run into the same number of red lights and stop signs as me. They’ll encounter just as many delays. They will find it impossible to avoid stopping at drive-through coffee shops. I much prefer consorting with the fellow tortoises in my bale than trying to emulate the denizens of a husk of hares.

Aesop’s conclusion in his fable was, “The race is not always to the swift.” I offer a slight edit: “The race is not always to the young.”

*    *    *

If you enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing to be notified of future posts. Subscriptions are free.

January 2023

By Richard Fleming

This post refers exclusively to the common mental lapses of aging. It does not apply to dementia. Dementia is a serious and sad disease that robs people of their identity and self. Many of us have family and friends suffering from dementia. I will write about this condition in the blog at some point, but now is not the time.

Senior moments are unfairly saddled with a bad rap. Brief memory lapses are common at all ages. But labeling them senior moments turns them into a source of ridicule. When a young person forgets a name or engagement, they are chucklingly accused of having a senior moment. Ha ha. When an older person forgets a name or engagement, people often comment with a wry smile, “You’re having another senior moment.”

But disrespect of senior moments comes to an end, right here and right now. I embrace my senior moments. You will see what I mean by the end of this post. And I hope you will come to value yours also. Senior moments can be cute. They are often endearing. And just because their frequency increases as our years accumulate is no reason to view them with disdain.

What causes senior moments? They are probably due to misfires in the electrical circuits in the brain’s hippocampus, where memories are stored. But these short circuits are momentary. Though I was not taught this in medical school, I envision a microscopic team of skilled electricians and cleaners busily reattaching loose wires and sweeping away the cobwebs which accumulate deep in our skulls. Our brain’s nimble repair people help us retrieve memories that are briefly misplaced.

Senior moments are delightful precisely because they are moments. Their duration is brief. Last week, I traipsed forgetfully down the length of the canned goods aisle at Raley’s Grocery Store. I then remembered I was seeking mayonnaise, one row over. See, it didn’t take long. I was at least in the general vicinity of where I needed to be. And I got in some extra walking. A month ago I spent several minutes wandering aimlessly around the dining room. I knew my journey had a purpose but could not recall what it was. Suddenly I spied a lone coaster on the dining room table. This prompted me to remember I had trekked to that room to retrieve the coaster. Mission accomplished. No harm, no foul.

Try telling me these episodes aren’t a bit charming.

Consider your own senior moments. That time you forgot a friend’s name, but remembered it just in time to avoid embarrassment. Or when you couldn’t recall who became president after Nixon resigned. You ended up remembering Gerald Ford pretty quickly, even though you had a small assist from Google. You have to admit these kinds of glitches are kind of cute. Certainly they should not be a source of ridicule.

Any day of the week, I prefer senior moments to senior hours, which I sometimes experience. Senior hours share nothing in common with happy hours, when bars put drinks on sale. They are unrelated to seniors getting discounts at movie theaters at specified times. Senior hours are prolonged memory gaps that take time to clear. Sometimes I cannot for the life of me remember the title of an enjoyable movie my wife and I streamed last week. Or where we went on vacation two years ago. And these missing data points can be difficult to retrieve.

I assume senior hours are due to the brain’s cleaning crew being overworked. Thank goodness they finally manage to make progress and the data I’m seeking resurfaces.

When I forget something these days, I hope it will be a senior moment. But there are times the data remains out of reach, and I simply give up and move on. Sometimes I even forget that I forgot something. If you know what I mean.

Senior hours are still uncommon for me. But they are not rare. I periodically do a mental self-check. How am I doing on Wordle this week? Can I at least get to the Solid Level on the New York Times’ daily Spelling Bee challenge? What was the title of the last book I read for my High Crimes Book Club at Bookshop Benicia?

Fortunately – so far – I appear to be passing my mental audits. But I do wish I could reduce my cleaning crew’s workload or beef up their staffing levels so that I have more senior moments and fewer senior hours.

I hope you now understand why senior moments, in their brevity, are a source of levity more than shame. Try not to forget that our senior moments are actually reasons for optimism.

And the next time some young smart alec condescendingly accuses you of having “another senior moment,” you can respond with confidence, “Hey, whipper snapper, thank goodness it’s not another senior hour.”

*    *    *

If you enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing to be notified of future posts. Subscriptions are free.