Getting older
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reminiscence draws us back to a place when feelings were intense and the world was our oyster. As Nathaniel Hawthorne once wrote, “Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.”
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My daughter often sang along with television commercials when she was very young. She didn’t always get the words right. When the Chevy Silverado commercial came on, she sang, “Mike the Rock, ” a version I’ve come to prefer with apologies to Bob Seger. On a recent Sunday afternoon, we went to our lyrically challenged…
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After two days of RV life, I’ve determined that this is not the life depicted in Downton Abbey and if Robert or Mary magically appeared and asked who will dress me today, well, I would tell them you are on your own. Serendipity arises and asks will you join. I said yes twice and no…
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Dad always had a travelin’ jones. He loved maps, highways, vacations, travel. It was an itch that could only be scratched with a road trip. As Dad lay dying, he asked the logistical questions one asks when preparing for a journey. What time is it? Can we drive through for barbeque? Where are my children? …
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“Can you see well enough to read the Bible?” She said, “No, and I can’t really make out your face, but I can see that your shirt is checkered.” I lied and told her I was handsome and she replied graciously, “I can tell by your voice.”
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Yogi Berra was describing his own version of Einstein’s Relativity theory when he remarked, “The future ain’t what it used to be.” I thought of the future that used to be as I sat in a deep leather recliner at Eggbert’s cafe, waiting for a table on a Saturday morning, a pager in hand while…
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“Do you have time to come home and help Dad? He fell and broke his leg.” Well, yes Mom, since you put it that way, I think I can find the time. And thanks for phrasing it in a non-urgent way so as not to alarm me and also give me an out in case…
Bespoke 