How topics of our conversations change as we grow older

How topics of our conversations change as we grow older

I have been slipping on my blog writing. For the few faithful I do humbly apologize. But I have not had much to write about that did not include pain, pills, tests, Dr. appointments, Bengay and hot showers. All of which I am not going to elaborate upon.

But all that did get me thinking. I gave myself a good laugh the other day while walking down to get my mail. I wondered what some of the oldies I passed in the hall would think if my conversation included something other than the above mentioned. For instant, “Hey, do you want to Jitterbug to the mailboxes with me?” or “How about a game of marbles after lunch?” (They probable would think I’d lost my marbles.) Or maybe, “Been doing any good fishing lately?” “Let’s play hide and seek, NOT IT!"

Yeah, I know, I am pushing the boundaries of sanity here. But I think we need to listen to what we talk about as life changes. We go from kid games, to dates with boys/girls, hair dos and don’t, car models and movie themes, job résumés and job titles, babies and bills, vacations and  pictures of our kids and grandkids. Then something happens around the time a lady’s hair turns ‘blue’ and men become stooped over, pale and bald and we all do the waddle-walk like our mothers.

Luckily, or not, I did not pass anyone in the hallway to try out my conversations on. I doubt they would have thought it was as amusing as I did.

But on the flip side of my brain, I am taking a second session of the memoir writing class and right after it, there is a Painting and More class for seniors. When I woke up yesterday, all the above ailments almost won out on the vote to not go to these classes. Once the old bones got up and moving and a pain pill kicked in Arthur, Ben and I went anyway.

And I am so glad that I did! I am going to enjoy the art class even more than the writing class I think, or at least equally as much. I am going to tackle my fear of watercolors. All I might end up with is a rather large brownish watery mark in the middle of my paper, but I’ll call it, ‘The Puddle’, or Le`de plumea` de Compost pile.’ That way all the flowers you would have seen, you'll be able to imagine are composting on the paper.

Other people make watercolors look so easy. We will see. Hopefully I’ll be posting all my creations for your ‘looking pleasure’. After all it has to be better than listening to all the twinges and pains of growing older.