There are some things I do well. Some things I am OK at. And some things I just can't do. For example, I have a slice of cantaloupe every morning for breakfast. It's delicious and good for me. You would think after all these years, I could cut it right. But my piece is always lopsided. Even if I start at the right spot on the top, my knife just doesn't follow the curve of the melon. It's a mystery.
Music is another thing I'm bad at. A few days ago, I read about Stanley Drucker, who is stepping down as principal clarinetist from the New York Philharmonic after 61 years and 10,200 concerts with the orchestra. I never got beyond playing "On Top of Old Smokey" on the ukulele when I was a camper, and even then, I couldn't carry a tune.
I am also a complete failure when it comes to keeping my emotions to myself. I cry over Hallmark commercials and Mother's Day cards. I could go on and on about my shortcomings, (and my family could probably add plenty) but I won't.
Now that I have passed 70, I have decided that it's OK for me to limit my singing to the shower, to give up trying to be Barbara Walters and to have forgotten how to solve quadratic equations.
But not being able to slice a cantaloupe straight…I have to work on that.