by Kevin Kirkpatrick

Hang around older people long enough and you soon find out they all suffer from the same malady: hearing loss.
Ol’ Dutch himself suffers from this very same thing from too many years on a locomotive and too many whistle blasts in my ears. Hearing protection was unheard of (no pun intended) when I started working there and by the time we were aware of the need for it we had all suffered irreparable damage.
While I can understand people losing their hearing due to a noisy environment or an accident, it has occurred to me that women do not seem to suffer from the same malady at least in the same numbers as men.
Wherever I go I see men with the little plastic tubes sticking out of their ears looking a lot like toddlers with inner ear infection drainage tubes. Of course you have to get past the prolific hairs growing from their hearing holes to see them but they are there.
Speaking of which, how can a man grow more hair in his ears than on his head? I guess that’s a subject for another day?
It has been suggested by more than one person that I need to invest in a pair of the hearing horns so that I can become part of the century. And “invest” seems to be the right word as the last time I checked it would require about $8000 for a top of the line pair of the electronic gizmos.
I find that to be insulting since I can buy a big screen television for $400 and it has way more parts to it than these tiny gadgets. And they wear out faster than a television, too, making replacement an ongoing issue and cash cow for the sellers of such.
The last guy I talked to told me that I need to buy a good pair. He could not tell me the return on that investment other than I would be able to hear Trixie better and hence do her bidding more readily which sounds like the four letter work “work” to Ol’ Dutch.
Someone gave me one to try and after an hour of use I told Trixie that had I known how loud she laughed, we never would have even dated let alone cohabitate.
Of late I have noticed that I can sit with a group who are deep in conversation and I am able to just relax not having to even enter into the foray of who knows what they are talking about. Most of it does not concern me and so I go along in my silent bliss dreaming about hunting elk or fishing the Rio Grande.
The peaceful look on my face they mistake for hearing the conversation and Trixie clues me in if it’s really important so it’s like having my own filter to just the good stuff.
Saturday I dropped my phone and stepped on it and have been without one for a few days. I am finding out that all the beeps, dings and whistles that alerted me to important news like “cat waves bye bye,” “my kid learned to eat cheerios,” and everyone’s Facebook posts about their kids, dogs, jobs and uncles really is not that important to see.
While I do feel somewhat disconnected from my kids, Trixie is sure to hand me her phone when they call or text and I get the message soon enough. So she has become not only my hearing filter but my social media filter and boy oh boy is that nice.
Ol’ Dutch feels like a rich old man with his own personal secretary to weed through the riff raff and take care of his messages and duties and hear what I NEED to hear only, at least what I need to hear according to Trixie.
Oh I know, I need to get some hearing aids and get in tune to the world but for now I am waiting for some long lost relative – mine or yours -- to leave me a pair in their will when they go on to the great beyond.

Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is [email protected]. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.