Blog #332                                July 20, 2023

 

Last Friday, I attended a lovely 90^th Birthday Party for a good friend.  One of the guests asked me if the party would make my blog.  I said, “If you do something funny it will.”  They didn’t, but the party made me think of another 90^th birthday party held in the same room 22 years ago.  It was my Dad’s 90^th birthday.  He didn’t have any friends there; not as many people two decades ago reached 90.  But all my friends loved my Dad and he loved them, so there was a good crowd as well as my three daughters, one son-in-law and one son-in-law to be.  I gave a welcoming speech, and then my Dad made a speech.  He was blind by then, but he had created the speech in his head, memorized it and delivered it perfectly.  At the end, he thanked everyone for coming and called on David, my son-in-law to say some words.  What?  David didn’t know he was going to speak.  Nobody told him he was going to speak.  He was as surprised as Hillary Clinton on election night!  But he walked to the podium and spoke a few words about family and such.  He did a wonderful job considering he hadn’t been warned.  At the end of his speech, David then called on Robert to say a few words.  Robert was my youngest daughter’s fiancée, and he was more shocked than David.  What kind of family is this, he must have wondered.  But he did us proud as well and finally, when the speechifying was over, we got to opening the presents.  Everyone had bought my father bottles of vodka.  They knew who they were dealing with.

 

Later, I heard my Dad talking with one of my friends.  My father had been an avid golfer and an 11-handicap in his prime.  Of course, he was blind and no longer played.  Here’s the conversation I overheard, word for word.

 

Marty: Mr. Fox, are you still playing golf?

Dad:  No, I’m bad now.  Are you playing?

Marty:  Sure.

Dad: What’s your handicap?

Marty:  26

Dad:  Well, I’m not that bad.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and watching your words.  I’m a word guy (you know that), and I pay close attention to words and their evolution.  My middle daughter lives just outside of Berkeley, California.  Berkeley made the news recently by re-writing it’s City Code to eliminate gender-specific words.  For instance, the word manhole can no longer be found in the Code and has been replaced with the term maintenance hole.  And the term pregnant woman has been replaced with pregnant person.  Someone’s going to have to explain that one to me.  There are lots of other changes.  You can find them all in the Berkeley City Person-ual.

 

And now Broadway has announced its new season consisting of the following shows -- Person of La Mancha, The Music Person, Funny Young Person, The Book of Morperson, The Lion Ruler, Parent Mia, Jersey Young People, The Ruler and I, My Fair Person, Mean Young People and of course People and People.  Are you having trouble with that last one?  It’s the show with the song, Luck Be a Person Tonight.

 

I don’t know what to do.  I’m just an old man.  Sorry, a senior person.  I’m no longer confidant I have the wisdom to carry on a conversation with young people.

 

I cannot discuss someone’s gender

And race is a subject that’s tender

And sexual stuff

Well, that’s really too tough

So I’ll just shut my mouth and surrender.

 

I know all your grandchildren are geniuses.  Mine too.  It’s like Lake Wobegon where all the children are above average.  And maybe they’re smarter than you.  And maybe they’re smarter than me.   They’ve certainly transmogrified the way we use words.  And that’s ok.  Progress and evolution are fine.  But, let me ask this, Smarter-than-Me teenager, have you ever had a job?  Have you ever lost a job?  Have you ever raised a family?  Have you ever sat in a hospital room with your sick child?  Have you ever worried about paying a mortgage?  Your parents have!  Maybe there’s still something out there for you to learn.

 

Richard Russo said old age is just disappointment and exhaustion and defeat masquerading as wisdom.  Maybe so.  But I can still talk to you, can’t I?  Transmogrify, which means to change in a surprising and magical manner is our Weekly Word.

 

It’s almost August now, and Deer Season in Missouri starts in September, at least for bow-and-arrow.  Then, in early October, it’s I-pad Season when you can sit in a tree, play multiple episodes of The Bachelorette and bore the deer to death.  The Firearm Season comes next.  To me, it is criminal to kill a beautiful animal like a deer, but I am in the minority, a fact for which I am demonstrably thankful each and every day.  I used to have employees who hunted deer each year, and I would have discussions with them that went like this:

 

DH (deer hunter):  I do it because I like venison and I save money this way.

ME (me):  You spent $7,000 on a deer rifle; ammo another $80; boots are $200, hunting jackets $325, binocs $120.  Ribeye steaks at Costco are only $13.99 a pound.  Who are you kidding?

DH:  The deer are going to die anyway.

ME:  So are all your relatives. That doesn’t give you the right to shoot them.

DH:  They’re only animals.

ME:  So are your relatives.

DH:  God created humans to be hunters and animals to be prey. It’s only natural.

ME:  That may have been true at one time, but it was also “natural” to hit your wife over the head with a club. Let’s see you try that today.

DH:  It’s fun. It’s a challenge and a way to spend time with my friends outdoors.

ME:  Take up golf.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Come shall we go and kill us venison? (As You Like It).  It’s normal for cats to kill mice and birds, but I’m happy with ping-pong balls and little fluffy toys.  And there’s a teddy bear in the guest bedroom that’s tasty.  Purr.

 

Time for Shakey and me to go.  We’ll be back next week, so stay well and count your blessings.

 

Michael                          Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com