Blog #191

 

As of this writing, the election is still not decided.   When it is finally over, some of you will be as disappointed as the 4^th–place finisher at the Olympics and the rest will be as happy as a flea on a big dog.  But whether your old white man wins or the other side’s old white man wins, we all need to move on, make peace and deal with those parts of the Universe that we can actually handle.  Like Daylight Savings Time.

 

Let’s see – it’s Spring Forward and Fall Back, right?  I think that’s what I did last Saturday, but one year, I got so confused that I re-set the calendar instead of the clock and woke up in March.  Hey, that’s not such a bad idea.  Let’s hibernate like a bear and maybe, by the time we wake up, winter will be over and the Covid will be gone and they’ll be finished counting all the mail-in ballots.  But, if you can’t hibernate, maybe you should just go away on vacation.  Mexico sounds nice and warm and friendly.

 

The Mexican weather is clear

The beaches and palm trees are near

We all love to visit

So tell my why is it

That Mexicans want to come here?

 

Whatever day or month or country it is, I’m back.  And so are you.  Hi there and welcome.  Did you have a fun Halloween?  I went as Fred Flintstone.  At least that’s who my wife said I looked like after I put on my regular clothes.  Halloween probably has roots in the fall harvest festivals of ancient Celts.  The early Christians celebrated a holiday named All Hallows’ Day which was a day to celebrate the upcoming harvest and give thanks to God.  Hallowed means holy, sacred and revered.  That’s our Weekly Word.  The night before this sacred day was called All Hallows’ E’en (E’en being short for evening if you were an ancient Celt who was in such a hurry that you didn’t have time to pronounce three syllables.  Probably had to rush to get a good seat at the rock concert that night -- The Rolling Stonehenge.)  From Hallows and E’en, we got Halloween.  What would you do without me? 

 

I hope you’re feeling well today and ready for some more of whatever it is we do here each week.  A portion of what we do here is to discuss my myriad daily challenges.

 

Like cars.  I just learned from Google that my car has about 30,000 different parts.  And I only know how to use seven of them.  My car is ten years old and I still have trouble guessing which one of those little pully-things opens my trunk and which one opens my gas tank.  And where is the hazard-light button?  I refuse to get a new car because it would have a touch screen instead of the buttons and knobs I am used to, and then the seven things I know how to do would drop to three.  And by the way, the thing (that’s a technical term, at least to me) that opens the gas tank is in a different place in every make of car.  I drove my neighbor’s new car last week and, for the life of me, I could not get the car to go into PARK.  I tried everything including kicking and promising to watch The View.  I even tried, “Hey, Siri, PARK!”  I gave up, pulled it into a parking space and spent 15 minutes locating the emergency brake.  It was right next to the Gas Tank Thing.

 

And doctors.  Do you ever have trouble communicating with your doctor?  The first time I visited Dr. Blood, he told me I had Monoclonal B-Cell Lymphocytosis.  I turned to him and calmly replied, “Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.”  Aha!  Now we both understood each other that neither one of us understood each other, and we proceeded to speak English.  Try it sometime.  Your doctor will get the message.  By the way, the monoclonal stuff is just some heebie-jeebie thing in my blood that nobody has to worry about.  Is heebie-jeebie a medical term?  I bet it is. 

 

The doctors spend much too much time at school learning Latinesque words like lymphocytosis.  Instead of all that medical gobbledygook, they should just spend ten years as a wife and mother.  That’s the best medical education there is.  I know you women agree.  I recently had my annual physical with Dr. Doctor.  Late that afternoon, the nurse called.  That’s always bad news.  Your gobbledtgook test came back positive and Doctor wants you to see a specialist.  My wife, who is not just another Hostess Cupcake, got my attention and whispered, “Tell her you want to take the test again.”  What? I replied.  Take the test again?  That’s ridiculous.  She insisted, so I suggested that possibility to the nurse.  What? she replied.  Take the test again?  That’s ridiculous.  I insisted.  So I went back in and took the test again.  Guess what?  Negative!  It’s amazing how good my wife is about medical diagnoses.  You should call her sometime.  On second thought, she charges a fortune.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Forget, forgive, conclude and be agreed. Our doctors say this is no month to bleed (Richard II).  The last doctor I saw cut off my left leg and both my balls.  As soon as I woke up, I bit him.

 

You know, I was born when Truman was President, grew up under Eisenhauer, graduated High School under Kennedy and got married under Johnson.  My kids were born during the Nixon and Ford administrations and my grandchildren under the Bush II and Obama administrations.  And under President Trump, I celebrated fifty years of marriage to my wonderful wife.  During my life, there have been eighteen presidential elections, eight won by Democrats, ten by Republicans.  I’ll bet that surprises you, doesn’t it?  But however often the balance of power changes, we seem to move forward.

 

Whoever wins, we all had a chance to vote, and the world will move on.  I’ll be here next week.  You’ll be here next week.  Hey, why don’t we rent a barn and put on a show?  I’ll bring the hotdogs.  Stay well, please, and count your blessings.

 

Michael                          Send comments to:  mfox1746@gmail.com