Blog #437                                July 24, 2025

 

I have not been ashamed, in these weekly messages, to reveal all my quirky eccentricities and special peccadillos.  It’s fine.  I don’t mind sharing with you.  You are part of my electronic family, after all, so I might as well share a few more examples of what makes me what the rest of my family likes to call “that crazy old man”.  Hey, families are like fudge – mostly sweet with a few nuts.  So, eccentricity #1 – I do not trust anything saved electronically.  I don’t trust backups, the cloud, Carbonite or any other form of document security.  I have them all; I pay for them all, but I don’t trust them, so for everything I have written – 1,400 letters to my daughters, 1,500 limericks, several hundred poems and songs, 437 blogs to you – I have a hard copy.  Call me Ishmael!  I know it’s a waste of paper and I hate to waste paper, but it’s my stuff and I want to make sure it’s all there when I die so my family can save it for a year and then throw it in the trash.

 

Eccentricity #2 -- I really do hate to waste paper.  I tear whatever is blank into little squares and use them for scratch paper.  It’s good for the planet.  I wish you would do it too.

 

I’m asking you down on my knees

To re-use your scratch-paper please

So listen to Michael

And always recycle

‘Cause paper does not grow on trees.

 

Does it?

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well.  What should we talk about?  I never start to write with a plan.  The topics just kind of intrude themselves into my brain.  How about I tell you how brave I am?  A while back, I went to Dr. Skin for a treatment and she asked me to participate in a study.  I like Dr. Skin, was happy to help her out, and, a few weeks later, was back in her office, undressed and waiting for whatever.  The nurse came in and looked at me. “You know you’re going to get stitches,” she said.  “What?” I cried. “Yah,” she continued, “we punch two holes, one in an affected area and one in an unaffected area and then we have to stitch them up.  “What?”  I replied.  My vocabulary becomes very limited when I’m petrified.  John Wayne once said, “Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway.”  Maybe so, but this little cowboy galloped out of that office faster than Rosie O’Donnell at an Irish Trump rally.

 

Ok, I’m a wimp.  Let’s just get it out of our system and say it all together now:  YOU’RE A WIMP!  Well, you didn’t have to scream.  I don’t like stitches or drawing blood or shots.  I remember when I was a little kid and the family doctor, Dr. Golub, liked giving shots so much that he would come to my house with Nadine, his nurse, and the two of them would chase me around the bed just to stick a needle in me.  Now, when I get a shot from Dr. Hand or Dr. Knee, I try to work through my fear by telling jokes to whatever medical personnel are around.  The jokes pass the time and sometimes even get a laugh.  “I went to a doctor who told me I was fat.  I said I wanted a second opinion.  He said – you’re ugly too.”

 

 I actually did get a shot in my knee this week.  I was a little anxious about it, and I told the PA and her assistant.  The assistant said, I’ll sing you a song.  And she did, a children’s song about a kitten.  As soon as I heard it, I started to tell her about Shakespeare and by that time the shot was over.  I told you I was a wimp.  And the shot?  Didn’t hurt a bit.

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  Blood will have blood (Macbeth).  I love that old man, but he is certainly a wimp.  Sometimes I scratch him a little or give him a bite, and he has to run for a bandage.  What a baby!  Humans!  Purr. 

 

Did you think peccadillo would be the Weekly Word?  You were right.  A peccadillo is a small, relatively unimportant offense or sin.  You probably have your own.

 

Let’s share some more random thoughts.  How about award shows?  I hate them.  Plus, I hate that ubiquitous red-carpet question: Who are you wearing? I’m too old to know who these people are.  They ought to have an award show for old people - The Golden Years Awards, hosted by Dick Clark.  He must still be alive somewhere.  They could give awards for the Oldest Tie or the Most Organized Pill Carrier or the Smart Phone with the Least Apps or the Longest Number of Days Without Losing Your Reading Glasses.  And “who” would all these famous oldies be wearing?  How about:

 

Oscar de la Yenta

Jimmy Choo Slowly

Donna Medi-karan                          

Diuretic Von Furstenberg

 

Calvin Coolidge was well-known as being a man of few words.  At a state dinner once, he was seated next to a woman to whom he had not spoken all evening until she turned to him and said, “Mr. President, a man today bet me that I couldn’t get you to say three words to me.”  The President looked at her and replied, “You lose.”  I, on the other hand, am a man of many words – 1,066 words to be exact – and we’re nearing that threshold now.  Just one final thought.

 

“Progress has never been a bargain. You have to pay for it.  You may conquer the air but the birds will lose their wonder and the clouds will smell of gasoline."

That is a quote from the movie Inherit the Wind.  I am reminded of it often by the ever-growing pace of technological growth and the plethora of new gadgets and ways to download and upload and monopolize your time.  Sometimes it’s nice just to think about a quiet place where the birds are beautiful and the crickets hum and the clouds don’t smell of gasoline.  And you can grow older – and shorter – in peace.  I hope you find that place.

 

Join me again next week.  Please stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                          Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com