When I was thinking about what to write about today, I decided to write about one of the small companies I worked for when I first went back to work after being a stay-at-home mom for 5 years. Then, as I was trying to remember exactly when I worked there, I thought, “Hey, wait a minute! In the story about messy handwriting, I said I worked at the INSURANCE COMPANY for 10 years!” Well, that was just a little bit wrong (okay, ALOT!). (I have gone back and changed that statement.) I had a variety of work experiences between the ill-fated attempt to get a job at the truck manufacturer, and finally landing a job there 10 years later, including the verrrry important five years I stayed home with our children!
For the sake of precise truthfulness, it went like this: lovely insurance company, 1964-67, check. at home, having and caring for small children, 1967-72, check. small construction company, part-time, 1st half of 1973, check. small engineering company, (back to full-time) 2nd half of 1973, check. lovely insurance company (again!) 1st half of 1974, check. Went to “the promised land” I mean, the truck manufacturer in July, 1974, where I spent the next 28 years, check mate!
Ahh, I feel better now. Righting a “mis-spoke” feels soooo — cleansing!
I can remember being amazed when my politically incorrect young self would ask an “older person” how old they were, and they would say, “Well, let’s see, I was born in . . . .” And, I would think, “They can’t remember HOW OLD THEY ARE!!??”
It is amazing how God teaches us “humble” by allowing us to suffer the same maladies we may have had trouble understanding in others! So now, when someone says to me, “How old are you?” I start out by saying, “Hmmm, let’s see, I was born in 1946, so that makes me . . . “
I wish I could say that this problem with remembering my age just happened recently, but I can’t, because I was 48 for TWO YEARS because of bad memory! Let me explain. The year I was 47, I somehow got it in my head that I was 48! So, anytime someone asked me how old I was that year, I said, “48.” I didn’t realize my mistake until my next birthday, which is, of course, the time of year when “how old you are” is MOST discussed, and I realized I was now —– 48! So, I had another year of telling people I was 48 — some of whom may have remembered my stated age from the year before, and had either pegged me as an “age-prevaricator, ” or in the early stages of dementia! Neither very appealing to my “sharp as a tack” self (a little self-diagnosis, here). I just think my memory tape was a little shorter than most and started re-winding fairly early on!
So, I’m prepared for the inevitable, and plan on making the most of my stay in the “home.” The positives will be: I’ll be able to hide my own Easter eggs. Visitors will be able to tell me the same joke EVERY TIME they come to visit me, because, of course, it will be like I’ve never heard it before! And, people in those places tend to wear name tags, so I won’t have to admit I can’t remember their names!
Thank you God for my bad memory. I think I might be the kind of person who held a grudge, if I could only remember what the heck someone had done to deserve it!
May God bless each of you with a long memory about the good, and a short and forgiving memory about the bad.