I awoke to a loud “Silver Alert” on my phone the other day. I’m not sure why it made a sound, unless I accidentally set up an audible alarm for such things, which is entirely possible. My iPhone is full of tricks and surprises. For example, I haven’t been able to type the letter “p” in texts for six months, which is a -ain in the butt.
At any rate, I reached groggily for the phone and read that “a Silver Alert has been issued on behalf of the Cowan, Tennessee, Police Department for missing 79-year-old Oscar Howard.* He was last seen in the area of Chestnut Street in Cowan wearing a green T-shirt and blue jeans. Howard has a medical condition that may impair his ability to return safely without assistance.”
I thought about Oscar as I wandered into the kitchen, safely and without assistance, wearing a black T-shirt and pajama pants. I hoped he would be found quickly and vowed to keep an eye out for him.
I’d just gotten back the day before from a trip to Las Cruces, New Mexico, where 16 members of my family gathered to celebrate my mother’s 100th birthday, and her remarkable life. Let me tell you, the woman is still sharp, funny, and capable of surprises. She zips around the grounds of her assisted-living complex with a walker, but without further assistance, making sure to log at least a half-hour of fast-striding exercise a day. She still has a great sense of humor and seems to know everyone in the place.
We celebrated my mother’s big day in a private room at an excellent restaurant in Old Mesilla. After dinner, a cake with three large candles was set in front of her (because nobody wants to mess with 100 candles). As we finished singing “Happy Birthday,” there was the usual chorus of “… and many more,” to which she said with a big smile, “Well, one more … or maybe two.” She blew out the candles and said her wish was that we all lived a long and happy life. Then she got up and circled the table with her walker, speaking to everyone in turn, telling me I was “her favorite son,” then, with a grin, telling my brother seated next to me the same thing.
She was on form all evening long and it was a delight to see because like many elderly folks, her mind can sometimes misfire when she gets tired. She can “spiral,” as they say, and repeat herself in the course of a conversation. She does so cheerfully, and is clueless that she’s doing it, but she’s 100 years old, after all, and some age-related mental decline is natural.
But even so, it was surprising when she suddenly stood up and announced loudly to the room that, “In Springfield, they’re eating the dogs! The people that came in. They’re eating the cats! They’re eating the pets of the people that live there! And this is what’s happening in our country!” We gasped and turned to each other, unsure of what to make of such a statement. Then she shouted, “They want to have transgender operations on illegal aliens in prison!” Then she snarled, “In six states, they’re executing babies after they’re born!”
At that point, we realized Mom needed to be taken back to her apartment. It was past 9 p.m. and she was obviously spiraling, spouting nonsense. She needed rest. Everyone understood, so we bid our good nights and gently escorted her to our car. It was still a wonderful evening and a memory I’ll always treasure …
Oh, wait. Oh, jeez. No, no, no. I’m so sorry. I guess I was having a bit of a senior moment myself there. My mother didn’t actually say any of that stuff. I was somehow confusing her birthday party with the presidential debate I’d watched the night before. An easy enough mistake to make, I think you’d agree. Both involved an elderly person up past their bedtime. (And not just me.) And, frankly, I suspect it may be time for a Silver Alert for one of them. Like Oscar, he may not have the ability to return home safely without assistance.
*not his real name