Blog #230                                                       August 5, 2021

 

I was at an establishment recently, some kind of school-museum thing.  What caught my misguided brain was a sign that read:  You are included without regard to race, age, gender, physical ability, sexual orientation, family structure, citizenship, or socioeconomic background.

 

Wow, it must have taken them a long time to decide which kinds of people they will not discriminate against.  By making a list of all the people against whom they don’t discriminate, they imply that there are people against whom they will discriminate.  Probably people who have read Moby Dick five times.  Why can’t they just say everybody is welcome?  Or, in this case, everybody is welcome if you have $5.00 admission and no nuts. (It’s a peanut-allergy thing. You have a filthy mind.)  And what’s with the family structure item?  Do they think we expect to be rejected because our family has two fathers, six mothers, a crazy uncle and a camel?  C’mon, lose the guilt of the world and just say everybody’s welcome.

 

It seems like the more tolerant our society purports to be, the more we tend to cubbyhole everyone into racial, religious and sexual corners.  But what do I know?  I’m just an elderly, Jewish, third generation Russian-American, carnivorous, Midwestern, average height, Caucasian, married, straight, male, United States citizen who can recite The Raven. 

 

Hi there and welcome back.  All of you are in my favorite cubbyhole – Limerick Oyster Readers.  Stay there; it looks good on you.  I hope you’re feeling well.  There has been a lot of talk about health lately, both physical and mental, especially with Simone Biles’ issues.  It all reminds me of trash.  “Trash?” I hear you muse.  “How is this crazy old man going to get from mental health to trash?”  Well, stick with me here. 

 

Every morning I throw out the trash.  This consists of tying off the trash bag which contains the junk mail, banana peels, old strings, avocado husks, empty Honey-Nut Cheerio boxes and other sundry detritus of the previous twenty-four hours.  I tie a knot, carry the bag down the hall, open the trash chute and drop it in.  The bag drops down into something and then someone takes it somewhere.  They must have it under control, for I never see it again.  How simple.  How easy to dispose of all the physical trash and to start the new day fresh and free.  If only we could cleanse the mental garbage as effortlessly as the physical.  Just toss out the medical problems, the money worries, the anxiety for those we love, the disorientation and useless feelings of old age – throw them all in a large, recyclable, renewable, free-range, gluten-free bag and toss them down the same chute.  Let them mix with the banana peels and go wherever the empty avocados go.  And start the new day fresh and free.  Wouldn’t that be nice?

 

In my research on celebrated days, I have discovered that today is National Oyster Day, obviously conceived to honor our blog.  You should celebrate by reading it twice.  Friday is International Beer Day and Saturday, in a bolt of unexpected logic, has been declared International Hangover Day.   You can’t find this important stuff in the New York Times.

 

Last Saturday morning was gray and rainy.  I had made a commitment to visit a friend who was displaying daylilies at a Farmer’s Market.  She is a loyal ready and frequent commenter, so I decided to support her and go to the market.  As I was leaving McDonald’s to start my 30-minute drive to the market, I had a thought.  Maybe Charley, my 13-year-old granddaughter, would go with me.  Maybe my granddaughter would hurriedly get dressed, leave her comfy home to spend 90 minutes with a poopy old man to go see some unknown woman selling strange flowers at a far-away place in a bad neighborhood in the rain.  I called.  She said, “Sure, Poppy, let’s go.”  I was very, very touched.  We had a great time.  We bought a daylily for her to plant in the back yard and some cinnamon rolls and we didn’t get rained on and I saw my friend.  Thank you, Charley.

 

It’s not always easy for grandchildren to relate to us old folks.  Our lives, our outlooks, our generations are so different:

 

·        They’re just finding their way.  We’re almost always lost.

·        They’re growing so fast.  We’re shrinking.

·        They’re whizzes at the computer.  We can’t even find the ALT key.

·        They’re on Twitter and TikTok.  We’re on statins and blood thinners.

 

Isn’t it just wonderful that she still wanted to be with me?  Well, the cinnamon rolls helped.

 

Watching my grandchildren grow up makes me feel warm and fulfilled, but it also makes me feel old.  And I must be looking old too.  The other day, I saw a girl I had graduated high-school with.  I hadn’t seen her in years, and I went up to her to tell her she was in my high-school class.  “Really?” she said.  “What did you teach?”  Ouch!

 

Have you been watching the Olympics?  I love the Track and Field events.  The Olympic motto – Faster, Higher, Stronger – is emblematic of Track and Field.  I wonder if I could do any Olympic events.

 

Higher and Stronger and Faster!

There isn’t a sport I can master

A swimmer I’m not

I can’t throw the shot

And my golf game is just a disaster.

 

There must be an event that I can do well.  I’ll get back to you when I come up with something.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Nothing can seem foul to those that win (Henry IV, Part 1).  My Pops could win a medal in the backstroke.  When he strokes my back, I purr like a lawnmower.  They have an Olympics for three-legged cats, I think.  It’s called the Purrolympics.  Purr.

 

Our Weekly Word is detritus, which means any kind of waste or debris and is a fairly good description of what I write to you every week.  Hey, I finally found something I am good at, something I could win a Gold Medal for – telling you to stay well and count your blessings.  Please do that and I’ll see you next week.

 

Michael -- the elderly, Jewish, third generation Russian-American, carnivorous, Midwestern, average height, Caucasian, married, straight, male, United States citizen who can recite The Raven.            Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com