Seminary Hill Natural Area, in Centralia.
Cinco De Mayo turned out to be not a particularly happy day this year, although the fictional 92 candles on the cake were proof that this old guy was still hanging in there. My normal celebration was changed. Travel, complicated by “current events” and a car malfunction meant my kids could not join me this year. And Zelda — she of the feline Siamese persuasion — was more interested in sleeping on the porch railing than anything else.
You may remember that it was a beautiful day. I thought why not take, or try to take, a walk up Seminary Hill. So, for my celebration, I reached for my tall walking stick and headed for the path up to Staebler Point. I left a small flask of water on the front seat of my truck which I regretted later. Truthfully, I was about to quit after reaching the end of the stairway of old railroad ties but thought that, if I walked slowly, I could make it to the first of those rustic log benches that David Jensen built and installed along the paths. And then, as I sat there, the thought that if I could reach one, maybe I could make it to the second as well? It didn’t occur to me that it’d entail walking twice as far by the time I returned to the starting point!
But, walking from one bench to the next and resting on each one, I did make it all the way to Staebler Point and sat there for a while, feeling a bit smug. In the approximate hour and a half I spent on the hill, the only other people I saw were two pairs of young ladies and one athletic male who was running up the slope. I don’t think I could have done that 50 or so years earlier when I first started to appreciate this gem in our midst that sits there within the reach of anyone who wants to take the time, and has the energy, to enjoy it.
Finally, after returning to my small pickup truck, I wanted to congratulate myself and stopped on the way home at Safeway to buy something I reserve for special occasions; a large deep-fried chicken breast and a container of one of the many salads available at the deli section. In the parking lot I was having a little trouble with the elastic band that holds my current protective mask in place getting tangled with the hearing aid in my only working ear, the left one.
After shopping, driving the four or so blocks to my home is when I realized the portion of my hearing aid that fits into my ear was still present but the piece that holds all the electronics was not! I dropped off my “goodies” and went back to the store and searched where I had parked. Finding nothing, I asked if the missing piece had been turned into the store’s lost and found. No luck there. I got the same answer the next morning as well. A new one was ordered from Mark Pierce of Hearing Life and it makes me angry at myself for not bowing to improved technical knowledge sooner.
But having to watch closed captioning on TV did have its moments. In a news story about loosening the restraints on golf courses reopening, the spoken word was about limiting the number of players to “two, unless you’re in a group.” But the written version came out as “two and less urine a group.” I’m guessing that could ruin the greens, no?
So that’s my birthday report — a “satisfactual” demonstration of the fact that the old body is still capable of functioning at a respectable level, but the mind has developed a flaw or two. Who knows what 93 will bring? Hopefully, we won’t be wearing masks!
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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.
