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With the dawning of a new year comes a deluge of resolutions, reminders, and exhortations. They all follow similar how-to themes— how to increase your efficiency, how to make every moment count, how to invest your time wisely and productively.
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As we enter the new year, I still remain a confused senior…\
I hope our readers enjoy this humorous dose of reality.
So now cocaine is legal in Oregon, but straws aren’t. That must be frustrating.
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Well, once again the Christmas season is upon us. It seems we hardly get through the Fourth of July before the stores are hawking Christmas items nowadays. In October I went into a department store to buy some Halloween candy and was confronted with a mechanical Santa waving and ho, ho, ho’ing to customers as they walked through the door.
Read moreWe live in an age that is obsessed with things. We fill our homes with the latest gadgets and fashions and then, when we run out of space, rent a storage unit.
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“You can always spot a well-informed man – his views are the same as yours.”
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And last of all, my favorite story of the week…
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For nine years, my wife and I lived in the city, down a long lane, next to the Quaker meeting I pastored. Our first Halloween, we loaded up on candy, anticipating a horde of pirates, ghosts, and witches. But the lane was dark and spooky and not one kid showed up, so for the next month, we ate mini Snickers for dessert at every meal, even breakfast. Then we moved to a small town, and carloads of urchins mobbed our home at Halloween, swarming our front door like rats on raw meat. After the first hour, we were out of candy and began emptying our cupboard to beat back the mob, doling out squares of baking chocolate, sugar cubes, packets of Sweet’N Low. When we ran out of treats, they began TP’ing our trees, soaping our windows, and igniting paper sacks of manure on our porch. It was wonderfully nostalgic, reminding me of my childhood, and I went to bed happy.
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Thought I’d let my doctor check me, cause I didn’t feel quite right. All those aches and pains annoyed me, and I couldn’t seep at night. He could find no real disorder, but he wouldn’t let it rest. What with Medicare and Blue Cross, it wouldn’t hurt to do some tests! To the hospital he sent me, though I didn’t feel that bad. He arranged for them to give me, every test that could be had. I was fluroscoped and cystoscoped, my aging frame displayed. Strapped upon an ice cold table, while my gizzards were x-rayed. I was checked for worms and parasites, for fungus and the crud. While they pierced me with long needles, taking samples of my blood. Doctors came to check me over, probed and pushed and poked around. An to make sure I was living, they wired me for sound. They have finally concluded; (their results have filled a page) That what I have will some day kill me.
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