Say What?

There is an old saying, well, I’m not really sure how old it is, but I’m finding to be more and more applicable as time passes. To wit:
“When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”
At the tender age of 53, my physical abilities are becoming more and more noticeably reduced. It is a phenomenon common to 99 percent of our species, gentle readers. You can’t avoid it. About all you can do is take what measurers you can to minimize the effects of the march of time.
This I have done, to the best of my ability. I watch my diet, exercise regularly, and try to avoid situations with the potential for undesirable consequences for my blood pressure. In the newspaper business, this last stipulation takes some doing.
The one thing I can’t accomplish is to undo things I’ve already done that have had their way with my mortal form. Those of you, gentle readers, who still have the option should take heed. It’s just like the physicists say, every move you make has its consequences Or, as dear old Professor Isaac Newton put it, “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” This bit of wisdom seems to apply in realms outside of the science of physics.
As a youth, I spent far too many hours standing in front of large banks of loud speakers, which were attached to amplifiers. In those days, this was a necessary part of playing loud music.
I understand it’s not that way any more. Technology has advanced to the point where it is possible for a musician to deafen his audience without suffering the same consequences himself.
As a result of my own youthful indiscretions, while I’m am not deaf, the loss of my ability to hear is substantial. I’ve no one to blame but myself, of course, but no amount of guilt will restore my auditory capabilities.
I tried hearing aids, but made a surprising discovery. With our natural hearing, we can unconsciously select certain frequencies of sound to listen to. Among other things, this capacity allows the conductor of an orchestra to be able to determine if it is a member of the first or second violin section that is playing a wrong note. Hearing aids, however, amplify all sound indiscriminately and I find myself unable to select what part of that amplified sound to hear and what part to ignore.
While this situation can be frustrating for me, it is no less so for those around me. I am sure the members of my family and co-workers grow weary of having to say everything twice (louder the second time), and by now they must be convinced that the words, “What” and “Huh” and “I beg your pardon” compose at least half of my vocabulary.
So where does the lemonade part come in? I’m glad you asked.
It is an ill wind, indeed, that doesn’t blow some good, and in my case there are positive sides to my condition. For one thing, I am no longer awakened from a sound sleep by every little nightly noise. The things that go bump in the night can bump themselves silly for all I care. I’ll sleep right through it.
In addition, I am no longer disturbed by inadvertently overhearing snippets of conversations I wish I hadn’t heard. Not only do I not overhear the conversations, I don’t hear the snippets, either.
Plus, I find a reduced sense of hearing has made delightful additions to my supply of amusing anecdotes. Even while I was writing this piece, our bookkeeper here at the newspaper, Rachel Fort, came up behind me and said something about Diet Coke. What I heard was “diet cake.” Fortunately, I realized, before I said anything stupid, that this could not have been what she said since, to my knowledge, there is no such thing as diet cake. In fact the two words are mutually exclusive.