Trena Eiden

I once read, “The best thing about old age is that a person only has to go through it once.” I’ve obviously reached a “certain” age, because people I haven’t seen for quite a while come up to me saying, “You look great.” Really? No, it’s just what we say to be polite. If we were truthful, we’d put a hand to our chest and wince while remarking, “Holy mother of Moses, those wrinkles really gave me a turn.” We don’t simply wake up one morning and think, “Gee, I’m an aged little person.” Oh no, it’s gradual, low and sneaky, probably so we don’t fling ourselves in front of a bus.  

I’ve always done the tax prep for our businesses, so when I left to get Gar settled in the south for the winter, I took all the bookwork with me. Our amazing CPA, Deb, who lets me go right to the cliff edge without jumping off, IRS-wise, has me do my part in prepping paperwork. Every month I log all receipts in ledgers so at the end of the year, I can simply put them in a booklet for Deb. When I flew home from Florida, leaving Gar to fill his freezer with bait and contentedly leave every light on, I brought all the papers back with me. Here’s where we start to see the slipping cog.  

Each Jan. 1, I document the mileage of each vehicle, so the next year on the same date, I can tell how many miles we’ve driven. I couldn’t find where I’d written last year’s miles so I pulled last year’s tax info to look. When I went to write it on this year’s paperwork, I found that it was, in fact, at the top of each vehicle sheet. I’d simply been blind. No harm, just duh me. 

As I began to record everything into the tax booklet, I realized I was missing four of 17 pages. I searched high and low, called Gar to see if I’d left them in the RV, dug through my desk, looked in drawers and then, shame on me for not thinking of it first, got down on my knees and prayed, Jesus, you know where they are, so could you do a girl a solid and show her what she did with them?” He said to look in last year’s taxes where I’d been retrieving the mileage. There they were, napping between pages. Thank you Jesus and also I need a keeper.  

A few days later I got into my vehicle to leave when I saw my windshield wiper had a chunk of ice stuck to it and was smearing the window. I needed to pop the wiper to release the ice, so I stepped out, standing on the running board, when much to my wondering eyes, my car started moving forward. Note to self — put car in park. And also — don’t be dumb.  

A few days after that, I left work and drove two hours to my CPA to start the tax process, when I realized my wallet was still at my job site, two hours back from whence I’d come. I called a friend, Sal, who easily retrieved my wallet and took it to another friend, Reg, who was in that town to snag her son from the airport. Since Reg lives close to my CPA, she brought the billfold to me. I was told they were happy to unite me with my wallet. What about uniting me with my brain? No can do. Too difficult.  

I was a bit shaken by my brain blunders, then I read that last year a doctor took out portions of a pancreas instead of an adrenal gland. Last month, this same surgeon took out a liver instead of a spleen. According to the Cleveland Clinic, a spleen is the size of an avocado while a liver is roughly the same as a football. I began to fear if my brain got dopier, they’d take away my scissors, but I feel better already. 

A couple months ago, a U.S. Navy guided missile cruiser, the USS Gettysburg, mistakenly shot down a United States, F/A-18 Super Hornet fighter jet. This happened over the Red Sea one early Sunday morning, and praise Jesus, both pilots aboard the jet survived. I don’t know what the Navy said. Maybe “My bad?” 

There’s a redeeming factor. An F/A-18 Super Hornet fighter jet costs $60 million. I was stricken over a wallet containing $12. As the song goes, “I’m feeling good…”