L7 – "Pretend We're Dead" (1992)

When we pretend that we’re dead

They can't hear a word we’ve said

I’m pretty old, but my mother – who recently turned 95 – is really old.

Her mother died one day short of her 95th birthday, while her mother – my great-grandmother – was almost 97 when she passed away.  Her husband – my great-grandfather – lived to be almost 90, while my father celebrated his 90th birthday several months before his death.

That family history used to make me feel pretty optimistic as I aged – even after I reached retirement age, I figured I had many years ahead of me.  

But now that I’ve had an up-close view of what it’s like to be in your nineties, I’m not so sure that my likely longevity is a good thing.   

*     *     *     *     *

Today I was walking my dog down my street in a north-to-south direction when a bright-red Honda Accord that was driving south-to-north pulled up next to me and stopped.  

There were two little old ladies sitting in the front seats, who apparently had something to say.  (Is “little old lady” a sexist term – or perhaps an ageist term – that I shouldn’t be using any more?)

The front-seat passenger was trying to roll down her window so she could talk to me, but she couldn’t make it happen.  Neither could the driver – she managed to roll down the car’s rear window but that didn’t allow for a conversation since there was no one sitting in the rear seat.

Finally, the passenger just opened her door.  (My yellow Lab interpreted this as an invitation to hop in the car, but I pulled her back before she could cause any mayhem.)

“We’re looking for our friend’s house.  Do you know where  [name of the little old lady who lives next door to me] lives?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” I replied, pointing at her house.  “She lives right there.”

“The house with the blue shutters, or the one with the green shutters?” she asked.

“The one with the blue shutters,” I said.

She thanked me, and shut her door – and we went our separate ways.

*     *     *     *     *

I took my dog to the end of our street, turned left, walked to the end of that block, and turned left again – which left me only one more left turn away from returning to the street where my house is situated.

I could see the red Honda Accord sitting where I would make that last left turn.  It was still there a couple of minutes later when my dog and I arrived at that intersection.

This time the little-old-lady passenger was able to get her window down so she could address me without opening her door.

“Did you find your friend’s house?” I asked.

“Yes, we did,” she said.  “But she wasn’t home.”

“That’s too bad” I replied, wondering why they had stopped and waited until they could talk to me.

“We were supposed to meet her, but we don’t know where,” the passenger told me.  “She’s probably wondering where we are.”

I’m not sure how I was supposed to respond to this.  I’m casually acquainted with my neighbor – a ninety-something widow who still drives an old green Jaguar that belonged to her late husband (who’s been dead at least 20 years) – but I had no idea where she might have been at that moment.  (It was shortly after noon, so maybe they were supposed to meet at a restaurant?)

I stood by for a few seconds in case the little old lady in the passenger seat had anything more to say to me.  But she seemed to realize that I was of no use to her, so she rolled up her window and the car drove away.

*     *     *     *    *

I later ascertained that the car the two ladies were in was not just a Honda Accord, but a Honda Accord Sport in San Marino Red, which was equipped with sporty oversized alloy wheels, a turbocharged engine, a spoiler, and a bunch of other stuff that I would consider overkill for a little-old-lady driver:

I question whether our ninety-something neighbor should still be driving her old green Jaguar – believe me, I walk my dog way up in the grass when I see her driving on our street.  

And I question whether the woman in the red Honda Accord Sport – who appeared to be about the same age as my neighbor – should be driving when she can’t figure out how to operate the car’s windows.

*     *     *     *     *

My mother is 95 years old, living in an apartment in an assisted-living facility.  A few months ago, we asked a home health care agency to provide aides to stay with her between 8 AM and 8 PM every day – she was falling fairly frequently, and the assisted-living place didn’t think she was safe without the aides.

I’ve met both of her regular aides, and they are so kind and patient I can hardly believe it.  (Maybe they act differently when I’m not there, but I don’t think that’s the case.)  They tell me they get along just fine with her, and say things like “She’s a sweetheart,” which in my experience couldn’t be further from the truth.  

My mother used to be as meek and mild as anyone you’ve ever known, but has become very difficult the last few years.  To the extent she says anything to her nurses and other caregivers, it’s usually nasty and negative.  I’m appalled when she her snarls “Get away from me!” and swats at the people who try to take her blood pressure or help her eat or provide other care. 

Because of covid, I wasn’t able to visit her in person until recently.  And since she is very deaf, and refuses to let the nurses put her hearing aids in – not that they do a lot of good – I couldn’t really communicate with her on the phone.  So we were reduced to dropping off handwritten notes and greeting cards every few days.  (I also drop off adult diapers and toilet paper.  She goes through an inordinate amount of toilet paper, and I try to avoid thinking about why that is.)

In January, we brought in a hospital-type bed for her that can be raised and lowered – thinking that by having a lower bed to sleep in, she might be less likely to fall when she gets in and out of bed.  But for some reason, she doesn’t like the hospital bed – she insists on sleeping on the couch in her living room instead.

*     *     *     *     *

Fortunately, I have two wonderful daughters who are live nearby (and who are likely to always live nearby).  

I make no attempt to sugarcoat the problems I’ve had with their grandmother over the past few years.

“Be prepared,” I tell them.  “I’ll probably be even more difficult.”

*     *     *     *     *

Last December, I told you how I had gotten into the habit of taking a photo of my car’s multimedia screen when a song that seemed 2 or 3 lines-worthy was being played on whatever Sirius/XM radio channel I happened to be listening to at that moment.  That way, I didn’t forget about the song by the time I got home.

The only problem with my system is that it works too well.  It takes very little effort to snap a photo of every mildly noteworthy record I hear, so that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

As of the end of 2020, I had created a list containing the names of 159 records . . . which is enough for roughly a year and a half of 2 or 3 lines posts. 

We’re less than four months into 2021, and that list has grown from 159 songs to 282 songs!  

I’ve decided to stop trying to feature songs that have some connection to the content of my posts, and start featuring songs from that list – each of which I will then delete.

I have a feeling that list will continue to grow because I will add songs at a more rapid pace than I will delete them.  The result will be something akin to everyone buying hybrid cars – the oceans will continue to rise, but not as quickly as if we were all driving cars with V-8 engines like the Olds Cutlass I drove in the seventies.

*     *     *     *     *

Today’s featured song, “Pretend We’re Dead,” was released by the all-female group L7 in 1992.

The band’s lead vocalist, Donita Sparks, wrote the song after a painful breakup with her boyfriend.  She later said that she didn’t want her ex to die, but that the only way she could get through the breakup was to pretend in her mind that he was dead.

Donita Sparks

You wouldn’t think that a woman who did what Sparks did at the Reading Festival the same year that “Pretend We’re Dead” was released – you can click here to read all about it – would be so delicate as to allow a mere breakup to have such an effect on her.

Click here to view the official music video for “Pretend We’re Dead.”

Click on the link below to buy the song from Amazon: