Dolly Once Loved Carol Channing

Checking my e-mail a minute ago, I realized I have reached a time in life where a "rebate processor position" doesn't sound promising. Not that rebate processing is great work, but turning the banal and mundane (like spam) into creative ideas and projects has always been an interest. I once worked as a mangler in a laundry at Yellowstone National Park, and the old me, on seeing spam in my inbox that said "rebate processor position" may have given it some thought. Just for the hell of it. Something fitting to write under "head mangler" on my resume. I have always liked collecting experience, experiencing life as art. But I feel a shift.

Does getting older mean caring less about things? Once Dolly loved Carol Channing. There was something about Carol Channing that she just adored.

Maybe Carol Channing's ability to play musical instruments and be the life of the party. Or the way she always looked nice, put on a big toothy smile.(Dolly was always encouraging me to "smile!") She also had a high dose of my mother's biggest asset. In fact, not long ago, in the town where Dolly spent most of her life, an old friend of hers told me, punching the last word:

"Your mother had personality."

These days, in the assisted living facility, Dolly could care less about Carol Channing. Or her old friends. Or her husband, who has been dead over 20 years. She doesn't care about looking nice or putting on a good face, either. She has changed.

Am I losing interest in the things that have always interested me? Maybe I'm afraid that my mind just won't work the same anymore, like Dolly's. And afraid that the strings that bind me with interest to people and ideas will no longer hold. I want to hold onto my big toothy smile, keep myself up, learn a musical instrument, but you can't be the life of the party forever, can you?