the song remains the same

so i was listening to an extended chat by a noted american neurologist a few weeks back. during a pa session at my school. and for the better half of the afternoon, the good doctor was busy expounding upon the neurological differences between the typical adolescent brain and that of my peers - that is to say, that of the older generation. and while many novel and compelling factoids were dispensed with over the course of the afternoon, i must say that the lone tidbit of information that stood out from the rest that day was the one pertaining to the degenerative human brain. or more precisely, my own degenerative, simian-like brain. because according to the good doctor, the analytical component of the higher order cerebrum begins to gradually decompose around the age of 32. but somewhat fortuitously for the thirtysomething crowd, several alternate components of the homosapien encephalon appear ready, willing and able to compensate for this creeping breakdown of rational function so as to stave off hyper-senility until well into one's forties. but that, according to the good doctor, is where the miracle of nature inevitably begins to loosen its grip. for around the age of 42 or 43, the progressive rot and decay of grey matter north of one's hairline can no longer be denied... or ignored. and that, my friend, is where it all begins to make sense. for i cannot remember the last time i... i... i... well, i just can't remember.

name and address withheld

funny who you'll run into at the mall these days. a long-lost pal from high school. a dear ol' friend from summer camp. or maybe even your old man. just perched there on a bench, biding his time while his lady friend sweats out a mani-pedi in a nearby nail salon. so there we were. two strangers with so much in common. exchanging pleasantries. catching up on old times. sizing one another up. so casual that it was almost surreal. as if it was all just water under the bridge. and yet, as the script gradually unfolded, an almost mirror-like effect began to take hold. for this was me. or this would soon be me. the eyes. the nose. the disappearing hairline. the shifty glances to and fro. would the progeny spot the resemblance? would the progeny wonder aloud the identity of this long lost soul? no, the children barely recognized the old man. and the old man barely recognized the children. one of the tots made a beeline for the toy department, whirling and twirling along the way, oblivious to the history she had left behind. the other stood by loyally, intrigued by the familial connection to this ghost-like figure. and then, just as suddenly as the rapprochement had begun, it was over. the sun was about to set. the pleasantries had been exchanged. the time had come to move on.