The Unexpected Joy of Impending Senility

James Thurber once wrote a delightful essay on the hidden benefits of being nearly blind, which he was. It was called “The Admiral on the Wheel,” and was so named because that was the image he saw one starlit evening on a drive with a friend. The admiral was in full uniform and bicycling at right angles to the car he was in, Thurber recalled, and might, to a sighted person, have been anything from the moon shining on a billboard to an advertisement for a soft drink. “But I’ll know him when I see him again,” Thurber avowed.

I have taken up residence in a similarly nether world, not of sight but of hearing. Just today, I was waiting in line at a restaurant with a friend and was bemused to be addressed thusly by our server when our turn came: “Diane,” she said questioningly but with a big smile.

Since her nametag said she was Angela, I thought maybe she had mistaken me for someone she knew whose name was Diane. No, she didn’t seem to be greeting an acquaintance, just looking at me expectantly. I turned to my friend; maybe she understood what was happening. Was this some sort of ritual among the cognoscenti? Was I to say the secret word and win $100, or perhaps answer, “Paula,” before ordering?

My friend looked just as confused as I was, so I pressed on. “I’ll take the taco salad,” I said. Should I have added, “Diane?”

Well, the moment passed and our salads were delivered to our table. On our way out, though, I just had to stop by the counter again. “Was everything all right?” Angela asked.
“Yes, very good, thanks,” I said politely. “I was just wondering. Before, when I ordered? Why did you say ‘Diane’?”

She looked as puzzled as I’d felt for a split second and then laughed. “Oh, ma’am, I just asked if you were dining in!” she said.

And that’s how it’s happening for me in life these days. Sometimes something just doesn’t sound right. Yesterday, I was informed by an elderly retired dentist who is in Kiwanis with me that he had known author Flannery O’Connor and her mother, Regina, well. “I was Regina’s nemesis,” he said. Well, that’s what I thought he said. He was of course her dentist and didn’t appreciate my trying to pass “nemesis” off as a synonym.

This odd but frequently amusing condition didn’t just set in overnight. Christmas before last, after the gifts were all unwrapped and my daughter and I had a chance to chat, she told me that she and her husband and sons were going on vacation the next day. “Oh, where are you going?” I asked. “Jackson,” she said. Again, a mis-listen. As I stared at her in vast surprise, wondering why anyone would choose a December vacation in Jackson, Mississippi (I spent a year there one week), it dawned on me that they were actually going to the vacation home her in-laws have in Destin, Florida.

A hearing aid would probably work wonders for me, but then what? Enna Jetticks, support hose and a cane? And who would listen out for the cycling naval officer?

Billie Brown has more than 30 years’ experience in corporate and non-profit communications and currently is a marketing and management consultant with Ellis Strategy Group, a boutique consulting firm based in Atlanta. She most recently co-authored a business toolkit publication, Strategic Planning: High-Impact Solutions, with the firm’s managing director, Dr. Bruce Ellis.

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