Rt. 66 playing cards--or why old people have memory problems

This morning I noticed something colorful on the kitchen shelf--in the cookie jar, which is not used for cookies but which I keep as a souvenir of my childhood. It was a pack of Route 66 playing cards which I must have bought at Phippen Museum near Prescott, Arizona, where Bob's brother Rick lives. 2026 is the 100th anniversary of that road on which millions have travelled. Including me in 1945. I suppose I should open it; the art looks memorable.

We need our daughter to help us keep track of our present and our future, the odds and ends of directions, cords that don't seem to match any appliance or computer, the stacks of bills, the confusing schedules of exercise classes, meetings on Zoom, Bible studies, social gatherings and medications. One of the reasons I struggle to remember is because there's just too much disconnected "stuff" up there crowding out what I need today, like travelling the old Lincoln Highway westward and the newer Rt. 66 going east, 15 states, from the backseat of a 1939 Ford during WWII.