On a business trip to Germany last year, while taking the train from Frankfurt international airport to Bonn, I whiled away the time by looking out the windows and watching the German countryside roll by in silence. The only sounds were the clacking of the wheels on the track separations, the occasional sound of braking at stations, light chatter from my colleagues and off and on, the internal music that runs through my mind when I am content.

“I’m beginning to see the light!” remarked Toni, one of my co-travelers who was sitting across the table from me. “What?” I asked, somewhat puzzled at her outburst. “That tune you’re humming,” she said, “it’s - I’m beginning to see the light.” She smiled at me, waiting I guess, for some kind of affirmation.

I wasn’t humming,” I attempted, realizing with a growing embarrassment, that either I had been humming, or Toni was a mind reader. “What?” she asked, “you think I can read minds or something?” Now I was embarrassed and stunned. “You always hum sir,” she said, “you do it all the time.” “I don’t,” I tried. “You do,” said Joni, another colleague traveling with me. (I’m not making this up, Toni and Joni). I looked at both of their smiling faces and thought to myself, ok, if I have been humming, it stops now.

For the rest of the trip, perhaps three or five or fifteen times a day, one of the six analysts I was with would look at me and remind me of my growing dementia. At first, it was a fun game they played, sort of a Name That Tune episode with me as the band leader and unfortunately, the band. Later, when the game wasn’t as much fun for them and I had come to realize that I was, in fact, humming all the time, they would just say, “Sir, you’re doing it again.” Eventually, it only took a sort of two syllable lilting “Sir-ir,” and I would stop. Sometimes I would feebly protest that I had not been humming and try to maintain that they must have been hearing someone else. They were, after all, trained analysts and knew what they were hearing.

Now, about a year later, I don’t hum out loud any more. Well, not as often. Maybe I have gotten it under control. Maybe I am just not content as often. Maybe everyone has just given up on telling me. Whatever the case, I am a Colonel, a full-bird Colonel as they say. Humming, for this bird, needs to stop.

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