The Thing About Relating
A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
I had an interesting experience back in July, I spoke to the Champlain Seniors Men’s Club, a fine group of ancients, one or two are rumoured to have come over on the boat with Sir John A. Macdonald. I was blathering on about my memories of events that happened 60 or 70 years ago and quickly realized there seemed to be a bit of an age gap between me and some of the membership.
That seems to happen to me more and more these days. I like speaking to groups like the Champlain Seniors, they are easier to talk to than some of the other organizations because they are closer to my age. The younger members of the club aren’t of course because several of them are just kids in their 70s. The odd one might be able to remember the 1980s, but not very much about them really.
By that time they would have been starting to notice girls. Once young lads do that, It’s all they think about. Or maybe it was just me. The odd thing is I remember now that I thought about girls all the time, I just can’t remember why.
While writing this I thought about the number of conversations I get into every day with much younger people, and sometimes they are years younger. Do my comments come even close to what they think about today’s politics, world events or anything else for that matter? And while I am on the subject, why do all my younger friends and family members roll their eyes and smile at each other sadly when I am running on and on?
I guess I’m getting up there as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I am a little slow with today’s technology, particularly with understanding on-line instruction manuals, but I’m gradually catching on.
I had a Timex watch a few years ago I was fairly comfortable with it, but I did have a few problems. Twice a year I had to get my granddaughter, Carli, to reset the time either forward or back an hour. Not all that inconvenient you might think, that’s true, but she lives in Woodstock and doesn’t get up this way all that often. Sometimes my fall-backing was almost ready to be sprang forward. I finally had to get rid of the watch, the battery died and I couldn’t find the little door in the back to put in a new one.
Except for pocket-dialing two or three times a day, I am quite handy using my cellphone, although I would never do my banking on it. I am quite at ease moving three or four hundred thousand around on my computer but to do it on a piece of technology that phones my son at two o’clock in the morning for no particular reason, I don’t think so. He eventually had my number blocked.
Family gatherings are always interesting. Mary and I have become the reincarnation of my Mom and Dad of twenty years ago. We get waited on by everyone. They keep an eye on us, but what if they don’t notice me shaking an empty beer can, or Mary running her finger around in the bottom of a wineglass trying to get that last drop?
We try not to make it too obvious like grabbing our throats and gasping, but when you are dry, you don’t want to have to wait forever. When I went to Duke of Connaught Public School, the teachers had a hand-bell they used to ring when recess was over, I wonder if I bought one and – no that would be rude. I tried getting up to get us a refill once but while I was up someone took my chair.
I am quite at ease chatting away with our grandchildren, or I am until their eyes seem to glaze over and they suddenly have to leave. The great-grandchildren, I’m not so sure. I love the little rascals dearly, but I sometimes wonder if they really are spellbound with my stories or if they are faking it. At my granddaughter, Carli’s birthday party, Elsie, who has just turned two, didn’t seem the least bit interested that I can remember bits and pieces of World War 2, or that I once shook hands with Mila Mulroney. She just rolled her eyes and wandered away to see if there was more cake.
(Image Supplied)
