Ostomy Memories of a Reminder Walk

THE CRUEL REMINDERS OF OLD AGE are a recurrent insult to one’s younger, inner self.  I can remember when…  Why, there was a day…  I used to be able to…  There comes a time when one has to realize that the past is past or risk hurting oneself, or embarrassing oneself, or worse.  This thought occurred to me this morning as I turned off my sixty-minute route into what I knew to be a thirty-three-minute alternate.  The body sends messages to the head and the head better listen.  So I turned right where I normally would go straight, and headed down a long hill past a medical facility that I’m trying hard to avoid having to be in.  It was still dark, around 5:30 AM, and the birds were beginning to greet the new day with song.  About forty yards up ahead I saw the shadow of what I took to be a possum crossing the road into some woods.  I heard a vehicle approaching from behind me and guessed, correctly, that it was a pickup truck, based on the throaty hum of its exhaust.  Another right turn and a couple of hundred yards or so brought me to a somewhat overgrown path through another wooded area that would bring me out just four mailboxes down from my house.  Every day re-shapes me just a bit.  Tomorrow I’ll be a new old man.

Hello HenryM. 

I do enjoy the descriptions of your walks. What impresses me most is the fact that you seem to be able to remember your past with such clarity.   Being able to contrast the past with the present is an ability you should cherish while it lasts. My impression is that one of the most acute cruelties of old age must be with the realisation that those memories can no longer be recalled.

" Always look on the bright side of  life --dah dah - dah dah!"

Best wishes

Bill 

Memories are stored in different vaults, I suspect.  Last night I had a dream and one of the characters who made a brief appearance was a kid I knew in elementary school back in the Fifties and of whom I have given no thought since.  But there he was, that chubby face, in the context of a dream that had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with where he fit into my long past.  Amazing...

I'm a huge fan of the entire Ostomy Memories of series, it's something I look forward to reading each day. I hope someday to be able to write as well as both Henry and Bill.

As much as I didn't and still don't want my ostomy, it truly is a pleasure to read these stories and to get advice from the kind-hearted folks here.

Thank you so much for accepting me with no conditions. It is appreciated.

Abe

Aka

Paul

Hello HenryM. 

You are so lucky that these characters from the 50's appear in your dreams.

For the past 20 years some of my time has been regularly spent helping support less able folks on welfare buses, taking elderly people to day centres and for respite care in residential homes. It is a somewhat sobering experience that these characters I have known from the 1950's are appearing (in real life) with more and more frequency on my buses and I find myself looking after their needs with a personal interest. I think the saying goes something like:  " Be kind to those who are less fortunate - for that could easily have been you/me!" -- And might still be at some time in the not so distant future.

Best wishes

Bill

The memory discussion is one that caught my attention because I have found myself trying to recall some of the places I had been in my career travels. I traveled several islands in the Atlantic as part of my job. Just the other day, on the internet, there was an article mentioning some nice islands one can visit. I was shocked to think "have I ever been to that island?" and I could not remember. Truly amazing what fades from our memories - especially when we think we will NEVER forget a place where we spent some time.

This brings me to a question that frequently crosses my mind. How can we possibly be sure that things on Ancestor web-sites, family trees and family stories be truly accurate? Who is writing this stuff? Historians - hmmmm. Do they really know it or is it just something stuck in their old brains? Who in a family writes about what happened and are they remembering it correctly?

Example: in my family it was said (and repeated since my childhood) that my grandfather's brother (from England) was an army deserter. This is the story that was handed down through the years. Definitely not a relative to be admired. However, in recent years my oldest brother did some research and found this fella was actually reported as missing in action. Wow, big difference between being a hero or being a traitor!

Just another one of my crazy thoughts/questions from the blob that resides between my ears.

Yes, Henry's stories, whether real or imaginary,

always get me to thinkin'

You're okay, JB.  I don't care what your neighbor down the street says.  

Hah, yesiree Henry, that's exactly what I told that neighbor down the street when he said to me, "You're ugly and you dress funny."

Well, I think you are totally awesome, JB! Tell your neighbor to stick it where the sun doesn't shine! Italian salute emoji