(Previously sent to friends as a “Happy
Friday” email on 2/24/12.)
With birthdays whizzing past like a long, dizzying picket
fence, I’ve been reading about how to keep mentally alert as I mature into an
ager. Most articles suggest trying new
things; ALL include doing crossword puzzles.
That’s just annoying because I’ve never enjoyed crosswords; not even in
my prime … which, I think was about three years ago when I finally peaked. I don’t remember for sure though. I prefer playing solitaire instead, but not
the oldster kind that uses real cards.
They tend to get tattered and worn out, particularly when you dog-ear
the corners while playing games with your grand kids. I’m all about the modern electronic solitaire
on computers. They allow you to choose
the level of challenge, and I typically set mine at “Youthy.” Interestingly, this level plays quite similar
to the “Dementia” setting.
Another thing I do to keep mentally alert is to hang out
with younger people. This last holiday
weekend, I went skiing in Canada with my son-in-law, Don, and some of his
friends. They’re all exceptional skiers. Unlike them, I dislike skiing in deep powder,
especially when it’s combined with double black-diamond runs. I inevitably lose my ski tips under the snow,
and when I find them, they aren’t where I was hoping they’d be. Fortunately, this sense of anguish doesn’t
last long since I’m quickly distracted by an intense tumbling sensation.
The other guys had arrived late at our filled resort the
evening before and were offered a much nicer condo down the street. After a day on the slopes and wind-down in
the lodge bar, we agreed to meet at 6:00 for dinner at the restaurant next to
their condo. I arrived at The Gypsy on
time and told the hostess we didn’t have reservations … which is a lost opportunity
as I see it, because I like to call ahead to save a table under the name
“Donner.” I can usually get a delayed
chuckle when the hostess calls for the “DONNER PARTY” … loudly, on the third
attempt. I like to follow up with, “Boy,
am I-I-I hungry; I wonder what’s on the menu?”
Anyway, I had her set up a table for five. After waiting for 20 minutes, I asked if
there were any other restaurants in the area where my friends might have gone,
and she assured me there weren’t. I
couldn’t get a response on Don’s cell, so I ordered a glass of wine and waited
some more. This was beginning to feel a
lot like my college dating days. At
6:30, I decided to order. The salads
looked pretty good, and I went with the “Romaine heart salad with crisp bacon,
shaved parmesan, slivered almonds and buttermilk wasabi dressing.” The hostess must have sensed my dilemma and
asked if I’d like to look over their reading material … perhaps to make this a
more meaningful dining experience. She
walked to a small bookshelf at the side of the room and motioned using a deft
Vanna White arm gesture. I selected a
recent National Geographic issue and sat back down in an atmosphere of casual
conversation and laughter with other diners enjoying the company of fellow
human beings. I found a heart-warming
story about Rajan, a retired 60-year-old Indian elephant born in captivity, and
his trainer, Nasru. There was a picture
of them enjoying each other while swimming in deep, azure waters of the sea. I immediately identified with this great beast
half a world away because we shared striking similarities. You see, I too had been born in captivity and
was now retired … as a mammal … that likes the company of others.
Quick service interrupted my reading as my salad arrived. Surveying the moderately tasteful presentation,
my attention was drawn to the bacon bits scattered sparingly at the four
corners of the plate. To me, this was
just wrong. C’mon, bacon matters! I like to use the borrowed expression: “I’m a
vegetarian … except for bacon.” There
should be a law requiring that menus list ingredients according to the amount
actually contained in the dish, much like our food-packaging mandates. I could understand the U.S. allowing such an
oversight, but I’d expected better of Canada. This menu should have read: ROMAIN HEART salad
with shaved parmesan, slivered almonds, buttermilk wasabi dressing, and a
few measly bacon bits. My pondering of a menu can best be explained
by The Far Side cartoon that illustrates what dogs actually hear their masters
saying, “Blah, blah, REX, blah, blah, blah….”
I just substitute “BACON” for “REX” as I read through. To my way of thinking, the food industry could
easily streamline the selection process by simply tweaking the headings on a
typical menu to include: Appetizers,
Soups & Salads, Crisp Bacon Items, Entrees, and Desserts. I’m going to call Martha Stewart about this
one.
I left The Gypsy around 7:00 and headed back to my inn to
ask where the other guys were staying. I
quickly found their condo and was greeted with jeers, saying I had stood THEM
up after they had waited a long time for me.
Turns out, they had gone to Gabriella's, just around the corner. I’d remembered earlier that the name started
with “G.,” but then found The Gypsy which was in plain sight. The guys seemed to understand my reasoning,
but then started making disparaging remarks about age. I quickly countered that I hadn’t been
stopped at the border and searched as THEY had.
Oh, and by the way, I was retired and could go skiing w-h-e-n-e-v-e-r I
wanted … what were THEY doing on weekdays anyway? Then, heartlessly, I gave them the sure-fire comeback:
“I’m pre-elderly, AND I VOTE!” That
always strikes fear and gives you the edge. (I’ve also found: I’m a principal, AND I VOTE
… I’m a house-husband, AND I VOTE … and, I’m a perv, AND I VOTE to be very effective in
commanding respect from others.) That
seemed to subdue the room. Still, I
couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, our dining experience might have turned
out different if I’d just done a few of those doggone crossword puzzles. Mmmm … NAHHH!
I really did have a great time with these guys, even though
none of them seemed remotely interested in hearing about middle-aged Rajan and
his pal, Nasru. So I told them anyway.
L _ _
Haymond
1. Across: Three letters. Begins with L. Proper noun that means “Greek god-like.”
No comments:
Post a Comment