Sunday, September 18, 2011

Forget About It!

A great deal of my days are spent looking for things that I know I just had in my hand two minutes ago. Other times, I find an item in a very inappropriate place, e.g. the car keys in the freezer.  I get panicky then, thinking that Alzheimer's disease is just around the corner.  But then, if I can REMEMBER to do it, I take a deep breath and remind myself that I have ALWAYS been absent-minded.  Here are some (but definitely not ALL) of the STOOPID things I have done in the past. Especially with my purse and with my car keys.

When I was 16, I left my purse on the bumper of my dad’s pickup, when we were preparing to drive to town. By some miracle, it was still there when we got to our destination, 7 miles away.

When I was 30, I left my purse on the table of a restaurant, as we were traveling from L.A. to Salt Lake City. By some miracle, it had been rescued by the waitress, and she mailed it to me.

When I was 40 something, I left my purse on the ground of Musser Park, while I climbed a tree sculpture. By some miracle, it was still there when I remembered it on my way home, and went screaming back to the park.

When I was 50 something, I left my purse on the roof of my car. No miracles occurred.
I no longer carry a purse.  If what I'm carrying does not fit into my hip pocket, I don't need it.


When I was 40 something, I left my car keys in the lock of the car door and went waltzing away to the Pizza Place to have dinner with some friends. Because the car was old and unattractive, the keys were still there when I returned.

On several occasions in the past few years, I have left the house key (on a key chain with my CAR keys) in the lock of the front door of my house, not discovering it until the next day.


I left a bag of groceries on the car roof and drove away.

I left a tray of cookies on the car roof and drove away.
I left a suitcase on the car roof and drove away.

 Back when I lived on my ex’s and my “farm,” I had gone into town for the once-a-month grocery shopping trip. It was my habit to bring the many bags of groceries into the kitchen, set them on the floor, then put put them away, one at a time. There was always one bag containing several packages of meat, which were to be placed in our freezer. On this particular occasion, the phone rang just as I was almost done. Only the bag containing the meat was still on the floor. I forgot about it. It was still on the floor when we went to bed. The next day, we discovered that our dog had treated himself to a carnivore’s frenzy. There were bloody wrappers all over the floor. He had eaten about three pounds of hamburger and several steaks. He was so full, that when he got to the pot roast, all he could do was sink his teeth into it over and over, but he couldn’t swallow any of it. When I cooked it, it was extra tender!
I have improved, in some ways.  I no longer set anything on the car roof.  As I mentioned, I no longer carry a purse.  I work very hard to remember not to release the house key from my hand after I unlock the door.  But darn it!  Why the heck did I go into the kitchen just now?  I stood there, blankly staring into space, gave up and came back here to finish whatever it is I'm doing with the keyboard of this contraption on my desk. 

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Never Again

Tonight I watched the History Channel as it re-broadcast the ghastly events of 9/11/2001. It was horrifying, of course, and I felt almost like I was re-living that awful day. But a strange thing happened to me, as I was watching. I started thinking of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, in August of 1945, which would make NYC on 9/11 look like a walk in the park. In each case, the U.S. was not the one to start the fight. But to the suicidal, homicidal maniacs in the planes of 9/11, the U.S. "deserved" to be attacked. And to the war-weary military planners in Washington in 1945, the Japanese had to be given a blow that would leave them no option, but to surrender. Over 3,000 people died on 9/11. Over 300,000 people died from the A-bombs dropped in 08/1945. The numbers don't matter. Each person, in both cases, was a living, breathing, human being who loved and was loved. None of them had anything to do with the motives of their killers.  But, the many horrors and atrocities of WWII made all the countries involved wary of ever repeating such a catastrophic conflictThe Muslim jihadists, however, seem driven to rain death and destruction on the infidel.  I fervently hope that they will reject those beliefs and join the 21st century.