It's already to the point that I can't clearly remember when the kids all lived at home

I used to live with all of these people. Just don't ask me about the details.

It's not like Terry and I are 80 years old or anything. We're not even officially empty nesters yet.

But to my surprise, I have trouble remembering the days when all seven members of our family lived together at 30025 Miller Avenue. The last time it happened, I think, was 2015. Maybe 2016.

Which for the math-impaired isn't even a decade ago.

Yet things get blurry when I try to recall what the mornings were like, or how we all squeezed in around the kitchen table for dinner. I was at work quite a bit of the time, of course, but I was there enough that I should be clearer on the details.

What I do remember is general chaos most of the time. Sports, band, church activities, movie nights, sleepovers, vacations. It was great, but it has all run together in my increasingly addled mind.

It's the small-but-important details that have escaped my brain. Who slept in which room? Who left the house first in the morning? At what age did they start spending more time with their friends than with us? Were Terry and I the only ones who woke up for late-night infant feedings, or did the newborns also awaken their siblings?

It's all a jumbled mass that has separated itself into two broad periods of time: the years when Elissa, Chloe, Jared and Melanie lived with us (1994 to 2022) and the years when it has just been Terry, Jack and me in the house (2022 to the present).

The particulars are increasingly fuzzy.

Naturally, this effect is most pronounced with my 30-year-old daughter Elissa. I know she lived with us for the first 20 or so years of her life, and I remember many individual moments and milestones, but the day to day is indistinct.

What did she eat for breakfast? How often did she hang out in the living room and talk with us? Where did she do her homework?

You got me. I was there, but I just can't recall much of it.

I would feel much better if other middle-aged parents consoled me with tales of their own kid-related amnesia. Otherwise, I can only conclude that my cognitive decline is accelerating and I am that much closer to being a drooling mess who can't even remember yesterday, let alone 10 years ago.

A refresher course in the English language may do me some good

I've subjected blog readers to this image before, but it's the only one I have of me announcing. So...here's a picture of my big gaping mouth. Please enjoy.

I look forward to this time of year because it's the beginning of announcing season, which for me means a series of public address (PA) engagements at a range of high school (and some college) athletic events.

I enjoy every one of these games/matches, but unless things turn around, I'm not sure the people there will enjoy having me.

In sum, I had a rough announcing preseason. That "preseason" consisted of announcing a recent Miracle League of Lake County game (July 15), the Wickliffe Swing Band's home-from-band-camp performance (July 21), and the Wickliffe High School alumni soccer game (August 4).

I was, to say the least, rusty in every case. I flubbed words, forgot others, and misidentified people. These aren't professional sports or anything, but still, I really have to do better.

I'm not even sure what happened. When I left off with PA announcing back in the winter/spring, I felt I was at the top of my game. I hated for the season to end because everything seemed to be clicking.

Now, months later, I'm struggling a little. It's like I forgot how to speak my native language.

I'm sure it was just a case of being out of practice, but it is a little worrisome with 63 announcing gigs on my calendar over the next 61 days.

I get a lot of offers for PA work this time of year, mostly because I show up when I say I'm going to show up. Athletic directors and college game day operations people are constantly challenged to find reliable people to work their events, so if you're somewhat dependable, you'll get work.

By the way, those 63 gigs in 61 days include 31 soccer games, 12 band performances, 11 volleyball matches (two at the collegiate level), six football games, two more Miracle League games, and a Meet the Teams event for my friends at Riverside High School.

This coming Saturday alone I'll do a JV football game at 10am, Miracle League games at 3 and 4pm, and a girls soccer game at 7pm.

Not mentioned are the last-minute substitute engagements of the kind working announcers are called to do all the time, or an additional regular-season football game outside of the 61-day time period, along with the playoff games I'll work beyond all of that.

Again, I'm not announcing at Yankee Stadium, but everyone wants to do a good job, especially when it's an activity you really enjoy.

I choose to believe I'm going to quickly work my way back into form. The alternatives (that I'm suddenly too old or experiencing some sort of cognitive decline) are too unpleasant to consider.

Plus, I spent a lot of money on this announcing equipment. I've got at least 15 more years before this stuff starts paying for itself.