Next Time

February 15, 2019

One of the perks of growing old is the instant forgiveness you are given when you screw up. Of course, it’s usually other old people who offer that forgiveness because they understand and know that their turn is coming. Again.

I was taking a break from finishing up Sunday’s sermon. I pulled on my Carhartt jacket, fired up the John Deere, and headed for the wood pile. A few minutes later the bucket was filled and I was bringing the wood into the back room and putting it in the rack by the stove when my cell phone rang. It was Harry. “Did you forget about band rehearsal today?”

I sure did! Even having it in my calendar was no match for my fading memory. Rehearsal hadn’t even gotten near to entering my mind. I doubt if it could have even breached the fortress of my forgetfulness with heavy artillery. Fortunately, Harry said he’d meet me there, since he obviously wasn’t going to make himself late by riding with me. By the time I got changed into clothes I was willing to wear in public, got my bass loaded into the car, and started down the road, there was no way I’d make jazz band in time. I waited till it was over and tried to apologize to the conductor. As he handed me the music I had missed, he remarked, “No problem. Next time, don’t worry about interrupting. Just come in.” 

Next time. It’s like he is expecting this sort of behavior from me; I wonder why. But I am grateful for his understanding. He’s younger than me. But it is a band of senior citizens. Maybe when he looks at me he sees his own future, causing him to have an extra helping of compassion. Whatever the reason, I am grateful. When I was a young buck, such forgetfulness would have been cause for reprimand. Now it’s only, “Next time.” Ahh...life is good!