Blog #117

Fifty-two years ago next week, the 11th of June, my wife and I were married and all our hopes, aspirations and dreams were combined into one – hers!  We made the normal vows – to love and to cherish (that was my vow), to honor and obey (I think that was mine too).  She must have made some vows, but I forget what they were.  I think she vowed to stay dry.  What I do remember vividly is the marriage bargain I insisted upon, that I would go with her to the Temple of her choice on the two highest Jewish holidays each year and that she would go with me once each year to the Circus.  Fifty-two years now, and the score is 104-0.  That’s right, she has never, not once, been to the circus with me.

They don’t do real circuses anymore with lion tamers and elephants, and I can’t argue with that.  The last circus I attended was in 2005.  I only had two grandchildren then, both in North Carolina, but when a friend said he was taking his grandkids to the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus – The Greatest Show On Earth, I asked if I could join.  It was great!

They had a dog act, a pony act and some trained goats performing in the three rings at one time.  There were clowns, a magician, trapeze acts and beautiful white horses prancing and cavorting.  And all the while the Ringmaster, in black tie and tails, was announcing the acts in his microphone like the Are you ready to RUMBLLLLL guy.

I was the only adult there without a child or grandchild -- well, maybe one of the goats didn’t have a kid – so I spent the intermission eating hotdogs and cotton candy and buying cheap garbage to send to my two little grandbabies.  I was having so much fun!

The second half was even more exciting than the first, with motorcycles whizzing inside a huge globe and jugglers and, of course, lion tamers and elephants.  Everybody ate, everybody cheered, the children laughed and the elephants avoided stepping on anyone.  I still have the ticket stub.  November 20, 2005.  I sat in Row N, Seat 1. 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling spunky today.  I’m sorry to bore you with that little bit of circus nostalgia.  Actually, I think all you men out there enjoyed my memories of the circus, and all you girls are mad that I picked on Carol.  (I don’t care what age you are, you’re still girls to me.)  Actually, you should thank me for picking on my wife every Thursday.  If your husband reads the blog, then he will realize that his wife (that’s you) isn’t the only one who won’t go to the circus.  I can hear you now – Don’t yell at me, Carol does the same thing.

Should I do a limerick now?  I guess I should, Limerick Oyster and all, but I don’t feel like it this week.  How about if I tell you how to do it and you can write your own?  It’s really not that hard.  All you have to do is follow the rules:

A limerick’s not hard to do

Just five little lines and you’re through.

Line 3 and Line 4

Must rhyme, and what’s more,

Line 5 rhymes with Lines 1 and 2.

There, now that I’ve taught you how to do it, go for it.  The ball’s in your court, the pen in your hand, the brush on your palette, the song in your throat and the Brussels sprout in your mouth.  Take it away!  Thank goodness I don’t have to write one this week.

My granddaughter had a soccer tournament over the weekend.  Mrs. Nevergotothecircus and I were both in attendance at the last game, where Charley played well and the team won. The weather was perfect until 60 seconds after the game ended, when the skies threatened to open up with a biblical deluge.  Carol said, give me the car keys, and hightailed it out to the Ark like an impala fleeing a cheetah, leaving her limping husband to drown on the concrete path.  She made it to the Ark, although she had to kick a couple of Unicorns out of the way.  By the time I got there, I was as wet as Lloyd Bridges and she was as dry as a matzo.  I can hear you girls now – Don’t yell at me, Carol does the same thing.

A friend of mine is retiring.  “I’m afraid,” he told me, “that I won’t be able to fill up all the hours.  What am I going to do all day?”  Well, you’ve come to the right old man, I told him.  Here’s what you do:

·        First of all, you’re going to need more doctors.  You used to be able to get by with a Dr. Doctor, a Dr. Tooth and maybe a Dr. Eye.  But now you’re going to need a Dr. Heart, a Dr. Skin, a Dr. Back, a Dr. Hand, a Dr. Pain and a Dr. Asshole.  That’s the technical term for a proctologist, but can, on occasion, be used for other individual doctors as well.  Much of your week will be taken up finding, making appointments with and waiting for your doctors.

·        Part of your time will be occupied with filling up your weekly pill dispenser, both A.M. and P.M. sections, and with ordering refills from Canadian or Indian pharmaceutical companies so that you can save $32 a year.

·        A large portion of your time will be determining how you can access NETFLIX for free by leeching off your children’s subscription and then determining which buttons on which of your three remote devices will actually let you watch something.

·        You will spend a significant number of hours going to your grandchildren’s gymnastics tournaments and oboe recitals.  You must do that or they won’t teach you how to get NETFLIX.

·        By the time you have dealt will all that, it will be time to watch Jeopardy, take a nap and get to the early-bird special.

·        And each Thursday, you have to read Limerick Oyster.

Don’t you dare miss it.  Till then, stay well, stay busy and count your blessings.

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com