“Freeeeeed!” No answer. “FREEEEEEED!” No answer.

Fred is watching THE basketball game. He’s engrossed. But, something else is going on here.

Fred can’t hear so well anymore.

But he doesn’t know it.

He tells me I turn my head away from him when I talk and says that I mumble.

He tells me not to talk to him when I am in the kitchen and he is in the back bedroom. He reminds me that no one can hear from that far away. I agree that this is a very annoying habit I have.

I remember when I was much younger and my mother who was much older (probably about my age now) told me that her sister, Claire, mumbled all the time. She was perturbed and remarked that Claire had the habit of talking soft.

Claire already had hearing aids, so it was Madeline who was having the problem. She soon found it out. 

Shortly after, my mother came for a visit and had been fitted for hearing aids!

I recall when I used to go shopping with Madeline and Claire, who were then in their late 70s and pretty darn active. I noticed that when the sales people waited on them, they would treat them differently than me. Often they would be addressed as “dear,” and tenderly, with phrases like, “Now you just make yourself comfy while I go see if we have your size!” 

Guess what? The sales people act like that to me now. I know it cannot be a coincidence.

Last week, I was in Kohl’s, and found the clerks bending over backward to be nice to me. They were checking to see if I was comfortable. They wanted to help me. They were extra sweet. They were treating me like I was old.  

I thought I wouldn’t like it. I remembered how clerks acted with the “girls.”

But I did. I liked it. There was a warmth and realness as they waited on me. 

But I digress.

We were talking about Fred.

Lately I tell little things to Fred and he says that I didn’t tell him. Granted, I might tell him while he is reading the paper, or intently watching a basketball game, or maybe I tell him something just before he goes to sleep. But often, I tell him things and he says I never told him. 

Case in point. Several weeks ago when I was in Wichita, I was driving about 30 miles per hour down a busy street in a hospital district. There was this big truck thing in front of me, and I could not see where we were going. There were two lanes going in our direction, so I passed him. Soon, I looked in my rearview mirror and there was a police car behind me with his twirly lights going. 

I found a side street and pulled over. Yes. He knew I had no idea what I had done. But that didn’t matter. I was going 40 in a 30. The speed limit had been 35, he said, but had decreased to 30 about a block before. And I was going 40.

He gave me a ticket. It had a hefty fine because I had created an abominable sin driving fast in a hospital zone. The officer told me I could pay more and get the record expunged. 

I told Fred immediately. He laughed on the phone. He told me not to pay the bribe. That’s what it is, you know.

This time, Fred did not forget what I told him.

So this is my conclusion. Fred is not hard of hearing. Fred has selective hearing. 

And my last point is that the clerks in the store are nice because I too am nice to them. They could be my kids or even my grandkids. I am mature enough to know what it is to work every day and be on one’s feet for 8 hours. I empathize. 

But, we are not OLD ... yet. Maybe  never.

Judi Tabler lives in Pawnee County and is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune. She can be reached at bluegrasses@gmail.com. Visit her website juditabler.com.