Aggravation (143) Anxiety (94) April Fool (1) Bitchiness (65) Bobby (84) BP (7) Burning in Hell (36) Bush (66) Calme au Blanc (13) Catholic Church (33) Charlotte Cushman (11) Cobalt Blue (26) Confusion (11) Crime (22) Daily Life (145) Dangling Conversations (46) Deep Thoughts (47) Depravity (29) Depression (45) Divertissement (15) Embarrassing Moments (17) Family (44) Friends (110) Frozen (15) Fun (60) Gay (67) Gertrude Stein and a Companion (19) Glass Menagerie (34) Good Things (72) Government (58) Gustav (16) Hate (20) Holidays (36) Hope (37) Hugging the Shoulder (6) Humid City (9) Humor (155) Hurricanes (3) Internets (8) Jesus (5) Justice (6) Katrina (119) Latrine (15) Life in the Quarter (353) Louisiana (12) Mardi Gras (85) Mark Rylance (1) Movie Stars (35) Music (22) Nagin (20) New Orleans (126) News (28) Nighthawks (29) NOLA Partee (1) Obits (12) Our-Leaders-in-Their-Wisdom (111) Outlaw City (126) Personal (405) Photography (532) Pity Post (11) Politics (79) R I P (12) Religion (20) Retirement (11) Righteous Shit (24) Sadness (37) Saints (19) Search-Engine Crap (20) Sex (34) Sick Humor (61) Silly Stuff (151) Southern Decadence (22) Striking Words (23) Stupid Shit (217) Take Me Out (41) Tattoos (18) Tennessee Williams (65) The End (1) The Human Comedy (15) Theatre (510) Thinking Blogger Award (1) Thrill Me (37) Treme (7) Valhalla (42) War (28) Weekly Photo Challenge (41) Weird Shit (9)
Friday, March 30, 2012
I'll Tumble 4 Ya
A few months ago, I fell off the sidewalk in front of a Whitney Bank branch office on Veterans Highway, and last night I took a dive into the flower garden of a lovely home up on Saint Charles Avenue.
I do fall in nice places. I will say that.
I wish someone had prepared me for this aspect of the maturation process. I was reasonably prepared for the occasional random aches and pains that pass as the day wears on, the gradual hearing loss that brings sweet peace and quiet, the empty memory chambers in my desiccating brain that once held facts and figures and even names I no longer need to know and can finally be forgiven for forgetting.
But nobody ever told me that in my second childhood, I would have to learn to walk again.
I've been spending the day going over this and trying to figure out why this has begun to happen to me, and I think I've figured it out.
Each time I fell, I was doing something in addition to walking. The first time, I was taking a photograph and stepped into a hole in the sidewalk. At the bank, I was reading my ATM receipt as I stepped off a curb. And last night, I was skimming through emails on my android phone and didn't see the step up onto the path that led to the front door of that house on Saint Charles Avenue.
Can it be this simple that I can no longer walk and do anything else at the same time?
Now, if only I can remember that.