I went to see my therapist today and punched in my passcode(673). I’ve changed the #’s in case you know where I go to therapy and will break into the building and steal my records: panic attacks, hypervigilance, regular old neuroses and sometimes eating problems). Then I went to Starbucks to get a Chai Latte(my latest addiction) and to grade papers. I had to go to the restroom. Guess what? I needed to put in a passcode: 2,4,6,8, who do you appreciate. I remembered it from last week. I was so pleased with myself! The Starbucks in another area of the city is simply100. But should I be giving this away?

I won’t go into the old I remember when we left our doors open because I grew up in Manhattan and we always locked our doors—though we didn’t have buzzers back then.

But these passwords—Are they brain gymnastics for the over 50 set? And they seem to occur every day like dishes—like children playing their exclusive games—Tell me the secret code and you can enter the castle.

Sometimes I see these passwords, numbers and letters floating in the air in front of me, whining, “Are we there yet—Have I been let in??” And then they disappear, my brain drained of all numbers, my brain wanting not to try so hard to enter/exist be allowed in/out as if to say let “them” steal my things, graffiti my walls, desecrate the sacred spaces but please, no more passwords.

Of course I don't want my things stolen or anything like that to happen--and we've recently been talking about putting a security lock on our computer--but how do you remember/organize/all the passcodes and why can't bathrooms at cafes have simple locks?