Page 7 - Scene Magazine 45-02 February 2020
P. 7

The Way I’ve Scene I
prepared meals as needed.” I’m calling B.S. on this, because it is misleading. Most of us engage in assisted living long before anyone is making Jell-O or dusting knick-knacks for us.
What else? I can rarely open jars, packaging that says “Tear Here” (liars), or some Ziploc bags. The Hub helps with these things, but when I am too stubborn to ask, I either eat something else or take the scissors to the re-seal- able packaging. Hmpf. I fixed THAT! Of course, I also made it necessary to put the unused portion in a Ziploc bag, and so the cycle continues, but what- ever. Problem solved. The Interweb assists my living for a lot of things. You know, like how to cut a recipe in half or figure out who starred in the 1980 fantasy film, Xanadu. How about this pathetic classic? Bawling, I actual- ly had to Google my father’s obituary one day, because I could not remember what day he died. I’m fine. I’ve got this.
I unknowingly entered the assisted living phase of my life decades ago. I’m not sure why, but since the mid 80’s, I sort of stopped having to clear snow off of my car in the winter. When I worked at the local office supply, staff did not park next to the store. Instead, we had permit parking in a nearby lot. While some of the staff
left at 5pm, I often counted the cash drawer, which meant going to the car by myself. More often than not, on any given snowy evening, I would get there to find all the windows magi- cally cleared. Often it was Scott who had brushed it off, but sometimes it was Cathy. When Scott left to pursue other dreams, his cousin, Jay, was hired and joined the ranks of the folks who assisted me every winter, and he
The most common and comical assistance required by every single one of us, and don’t even try to deny it, is filling in the blanks. What starts out
as an amusing anecdote, the summary of a movie or a restaurant recom- mendation is quickly replaced by an
Somewhere on the world wide web, “assisted living” is defined as “housing for elderly or disabled people that pro- vides nursing care, housekeeping, and
continued for the quarter century we later worked together at the Kellogg Foundation as well. Let’s face it. At this point, I cannot say for sure that I even know how to use a snow brush. Jay has retired, so I always park in the lower level.
inquisition! It goes something like this, “Oh! We went to that new place over by the, um, oh, you know. By the, oh shoot. What’s the name of that place where urgent care is? Oh, anyways, it doesn’t matter... it’s by the fabric store. Oh, come on, you know. It’s the one where they cook on your table but the new one, not the other one. What’s the name of it? Well, anyway, we had the one fish...” Usually, this uninformative babble is punctuated with several ques- tions, for which the other person is ob- ligated to have quick, correct answers. It’s hilarious. Listen for it, because it happens every day. “Oh, I love this. It’s my favorite song. Daryl Hall sings it... oh wait, that’s not right... who sings it? (Pointing finger) You know! He was in that one group! Who is it?” It’s classic. All of the people in the conversation are deeply involved in creating YOUR story without any real information. I hate to break this to you, but when you require help telling your own unsolic- ited tale or opinion, you have already entered assisted living. I know I need assistance. I also need some Jell-O, and could one of you please clear
the snow from my car? It’s the white Buick something or another out there... oh, shoot... you know! You’ll need a thingy though, because I don’t own one.
Can I get some help over here?

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