The times they are a-changing

            I tried to go grocery shopping at Central Market online today. I’d decided to fix Swiss steak for the family—long story but there’s a diet involved that really limits my cooking. Guess what? Central Market found zero results for round steak. So, in person, at Tom Thumb I asked, and the butcher said it’s an old-fashioned cut of meat, no one cuts it any more. One more childhood memory gone in a swoop. Butcher recommended something else, but it doesn’t have that little round bone. My brother and I used to fight over that tiny bit of marrow.

As we drove to the grocery store—we’ve gotten to prefer the one that is almost downtown, for it’s wide aisles and clean atmosphere—I saw other evidence of changing times. Suddenly, there are whole buildings I’ve not seen before. I know I don’t get out often, but I didn’t think I was that sheltered. A new coliseum almost done? A huge camera shop I’d never seen. In fairness, I have to say I don’t have much occasion to go up Montgomery, but we did today.

Still almost everywhere I go I see new buildings, familiar buildings and houses gone. Today, on Vickery, I looked at a large scraped empty lot and said, “I can’t even remember what was there.” Neither could Jordan. It’s a strangely disconcerting thing to see my city changing around me, even though I am one who acknowledges that growth involves change. But I am conflicted, because I love old houses, old structures. I value our history as it is represented in buildings. And tonight, I worry about the fate of the historic Will Rogers Coliseum.

I also mourn the changing times in the number of people who apparently find me old these days. I am so grateful for the many friends who visit the cottage, take me out to eat, and sometimes take me to doctors’ appointments, but I have noticed a clear drop by a few friends. Some I used to enjoy a glass of wine or a casual lunch with. My theory is that being on a walker has made me suddenly old in their eyes. I am actually in better health, mentally and physically, than most people my age. I simply cannot walk unassisted—and as a restaurant owner said to me recently, “Oh, well, you’ve been hobbling around forever.” And it’s true—I was uncertain of my balance, I carried a cane—but the walker makes a difference. There! I’ve said it! Wanted to say it for a long time and now I’ve done it.

My family suffered a loss today. The Frisco Alters—Jamie, Melanie, Maddie and Eden—lost their chocolate lab, believed to be about thirteen (he was a rescue and you never know the age for sure). He had shown signs of aging—anxiety and arthritis among them, bless him—but I don’t think any of us were ready to send Mosby to the rainbow bridge. I love my dog to the moon and back, but I have to say Mosby was one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever known. Patient, loving, and never demanding, loyal to his family. It’s a hard loss.

A bittersweet day—and it ended with the news that we’re bombing Syria, that poor beleaguered country. Sometimes the world is a discouraging place.