Thoughts on a frosty autumn morning

Well, as you kept checking for – and not finding – an updated column, you may have guessed that I have been rather busy the past couple of weeks.

In some respects, not getting many (okay, I’ve only had one) call-ins has given me time to get caught up on several projects and attend the many committee meetings that have dotted my daybook.

I’m not complaining, really. There’s nothing I have been doing that has been a chore, or that I’d rather not be doing. It’s just that I have had a lot to do.

September is a busy time, getting the various committees – some of which I chair – back up to speed after the summer break.

However, this has kept me from updating the column. In fact, when I started this column the title was accurate, but I have only just finished it this afternoon, so please accept my apologies for the delay!

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Speaking of “frosty mornings,” it certainly seems that fall has arrived with a vengeance.

Leaves are quickly changing, and falling, and while daytime temperatures have been mild, nights are getting rather chilly. The amount of daylight, too, has been in decline, and the shorter days are quite noticeable.

That means, of course, that (*shudder*) winter is on its way.

But, as I’ve said before, winter may be a small price to pay for a generally mild climate.

While there have been some small funnel clouds touch down in the area over the past few years, we are not beset with full-out tornadoes or hurricanes the way areas further south (and east) are.

And, the autumn colours are quite nice. I took a drive up Hwy 17 North today, as far as Harmony, and looped in to the Bellevue Valley trestle and back. The colours are pretty much peaking right now, with some of the birch and poplar still green.

This really is a beautiful area for autumn colours. What really perks it up is the Sugar Maples, and the bright red they develop.

Many regions have nice autumn colours, but only a few have the blazing red maples to really make them stand out: Algoma, parts of Quebec and New Brunswick, and into Vermont.

(When I was in Thunder Bay it took me a while to get used to the lack of colour – it was mostly just yellow and rusty oranges.)

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One thing that does somewhat bother me is that I’m starting to feel “old.”

Okay, I know there are a whole lot of people who consider me just a young‘un, and I admit that at 50 (51 this December), I’m really not “old.” But…!

Last year when I went for my annual check-up I was technically in my fiftieth year (I was born in 1960), but I was actually only 49. This year, there was no denying it.

I am 50.

Obviously my doctor noticed this. I didn’t notice the e-Records screen flashing, nor did I hear any beeping or buzzing, but my age must have appeared on the screen.

You see, after we covered the usual topics – blood pressure, cholesterol, blood sugar – she ran through a list of questions I should have been expecting, but caught me a bit off guard: erectile dysfunction, urinary difficulties, prostate concerns, and – the biggie! – colorectal examination!

(I’ll admit that I chickened-out, and opted for the stool sample rather than the colonoscopy.)

Really, it’s not like I didn’t know this was coming. Every other TV show, from talk shows to sitcoms, has broached the topic in the past decade. Somehow it’s easier to laugh about it when its some actor being prodded.

There are other things I’ve noticed, too, like ––, uh ––, hang on… oh yeah, forgetfulness.

I’m hoping that it’s more a case that I just have a lot of things going on, and the forgetfulness is just a symptom of that.

I don’t know for sure if there’s a family history of dementia, but I don’t believe there is. While my mother’s life was cut short by cancer (at age 53), most of my older relatives lived well into their seventies and eighties – and some are still living – with no signs of dementia.

But we all know a few people who do suffer from dementia, and it doesn’t seem to matter if there is a family history or not.

The forgetfulness, though, does concern me. It’s just little things – almost foolish, really – like forgetting my cell phone, or papers/books I was supposed to take with me to a meeting, or trying to find where I put my reading glasses.

The other day I was making some toast and, after taking the bread out of the bag and putting it in the toaster, I held the bag and spun it so I could put the closer on. The problem was, I couldn’t find it.

I moved things around, checking under the plate, beside the toaster… everywhere! There was no closer. I was baffled, because I know it was there when I picked up the bag – I took it off and –– ah-ha! –– stuck it in my mouth! I had it clamped between my teeth the whole time.

Yup!

Another age-related issue is my eyesight. I have no problem with distance vision, but I need reading glasses.

I have no problem with this, for the most part… except when I forget my glasses.

Many times, especially in the summer when I’m only wearing a t-shirt, or a golf shirt with no pockets, I don’t carry my glasses with me.

The problem arises when I stop into the store on my way home to pick up a few things. If I don’t have my glasses I’m better off to just grab products I am familiar with, because if I have to read the labels… well… let’s just say my arms aren’t quite long enough.

One time, in Walmart, I was looking at different paints, and had to carry a can over to the pharmacy and slip on a pair of reading glasses to be able to read the label.

It’s very frustrating, but to be expected, I guess.

It’s getting harder to convince myself, though, that I am not getting older.

Where at one time I would tell students my age and they would express surprise – saying they thought I was only in my thirties – the increasing amount of grey showing on my temples and in my beard is making their guesses a bit more accurate.

(One nice thing about teens, however, is they aren’t good at guessing ages, since they think of thirty as “old.”)

What I hope is that, my recent spate of forgetfulness aside, my mind stays reasonably intact, and I can retain a youthful outlook despite plodding inexorably on toward my sixties.

I remember when a bunch of us – twelve, thirteen, fourteen years-old – were talking about the year 2000, and doing the math; realizing we would be forty or so was nearly beyond our comprehension! “We’ll be so old,” we said.

*sigh* Little did we know.

I’m also hoping that I still have twenty or (preferably) thirty (or more?) good years left in me.

In fact, a number of the people I know at my church are in there seventies and eighties, and while they may look older, I don’t see them as “elderly.” Most are still very active, involved in church and other activities, and busier than they’ve ever been in their lives.

Hopefully, in another twenty years or so, that’s how people will be describing me.


But… that’s just my opinion!