I saw a funny video online of a comedian who was poking fun at his aging parents. By the time they reached their sixties, he said, he felt it necessary to appoint himself as head of the family. After driving for fifty years, his Dad left the car door open when he came to visit one day. He just plain forgot to shut the door when he got out of the car and came inside.

It’s not like his father stored his car keys on a shelf in his son’s refrigerator, but to a son or daughter, it’s the little things, and the first things, that whisper that a parent’s brain may have reached its peak of functioning.

I think my problem is I’ve just stopped listening. I’m not sure if that’s a natural outcome of having carefully listened to my daughters for their entire lives about all manner of things, and I’m just now at capacity. I suspect that, somehow, saving my brain cells for loftier things is more important, like writing columns or cooking something special. I think when you get older, you are bolder and more decisive about what you pay attention to.

The world has become so complicated–beeps and blips and website passwords and QR codes, that part of me has decided to unsubscribe to it all. I’m trying to market a tour I’ve put together, for example, but marketing today isn’t just about putting a little ad in the newspaper with your phone number; you need an expertly designed website and high resolution photographs and you need to be on Instagram, influencing and dazzling everyone with your beatific smile, your just-back from-the-salon hair, and pictures of yourself riding an elephant in a place no one has ever heard of. It’s exhausting. In fact, marketing today means getting people’s attention despite stiff competition from the tech savvy, and all the corporate ads that bombard every waking minute of our lives, desperately hoping we’ll click the “Pay Now” button 56 times a day. How are we supposed to concentrate?

At some point, we Baby Boomers just get so tired of it all, we leave our car doors open in the driveway or forget what time our daughter said her plane arrives. I don’t think I’m ready for the memory garden yet, but I’ll issue this warning: it’s increasingly complicated out there in the world, so if you’re getting the urge to leave it all in the hands of a younger generation, and binge watch Netflix shows, I say go ahead.

My daughter and my twenty-month old granddaughter came to visit for Thanksgiving. She’s a take charge, organized kind of mom, and even after raising my own children, I was in the woods about how to help her care for my granddaughter. They arrived with enough euipment to stock a day care center and there’s a whole new way of parenting that’s captured modern minds. I never heard my daughter raise her voice once the whole week, which I admire, even when my granddaughter devoted part of each day to hitting our old dog, who, by the way, was very patient about it all.

Toddlers will be toddlers and she’s really a dream, but she and Buddy did not see eye to eye about how to foster a relationship. I saw it as a good learning lesson for my granddaughter to understand and accept boundaries, but I think my daughter saw it as an opportunity to show restraint and diplomacy.

There was no TV, no Disney movies, which I also admire. But it was also important that there was no variation to the toddler’s schedule. It might be why I chuckled just a bit when the roofers showed up at 6:40 am to dance upon the top of our house to initiate a repair. That life thing–it often gets in the way. But it became clear to me that Boomer’s children don’t relish our advice on parenting.

I’m at the point many generations before have arrived at before me: things eventually become too strange and complicated. So, we look for a book and a comfy chair, or a ball game to watch, because now here’s something we can understand.

My cousin just called to tell me a story about her son’s cat. He’s a single young guy living on his own who loves his cat. Half way through the story, she couldn’t remember the cat’s name.

“That’s okay,” I said. “But whatever you do, don’t call your son until you do.”