Blog #372                                         April 25, 2024

 

Yes, It’s me.  I’m sending this out Wednesday night because I’m in California and if I send it out in the morning, it will be 10:00 in the Midwest and you’ll start to panic.  Be calm, people.  I’m here for you.  Let’s get started.

 

Last week, my granddaughter needed some help crafting a school assignment about Macbeth, so she called me.  Naturally, I hopped into my car and went right over.  Words on Wheels – We Deliver.  That seems to be the only skill I have, putting words together.   You know I can’t do anything else.

 

Consider me one of the nerds

Construction is just for the birds

Can’t drywall or paint

And a plumber I ain’t

My talent is only with words

 

 I have written so many things over the years:

 

·        Poems for birthdays and weddings and anniversaries

·        Songs for birthdays, etc.

·        Eulogies

·        Letters to the Editor

·        Letters to my daughters

·        Songs for a couple of shows we put on

·        A rhyming Dr. Seuss-ish book about a little girl who wanted to be President

·        Invitations

·        Newsletters

·        Wedding poems that welcomed each and every guest – and rhymed

·        Strange, dark poems in my depression periods

 

And many other things.  I actually got paid once, years ago, for writing a poem for a friend of a friend of mine.  I didn’t know the lady.  She lived in New York, I think.  I can’t even remember whether it was a birthday or anniversary, but a week or so after I sent it, I received a package from Bloomingdale’s.  “Look,” I said, “that lady sent me a gift for writing the poem.”  Carol popped out of her chair like the cork from a champagne bottle and began to unwrap it.  It turned out to be a silver-plated shoehorn.  Seriously!  I got to hold it and admire it for a total of two seconds before my wife ripped it from my hands, told me I didn’t need it, returned it to Bloomie’s and bought a blouse.

 

I no longer have time to do much of that extraneous writing, because I concentrate on writing to you every week.  That would be your warning not to ask me to write anything personal for you.  Besides, the price of blouses has gone up.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and enjoying the warmer weather.  Carol and I are in California this week visiting my daughter Stephanie and her kids.  For the first time, Carol and I decided to fly with just a carry-on each.  The last time we travelled west, we had more luggage than Lewis and Clark, but we managed to get it done.  There was one glitch, however.  Our Southwest boarding passes were in the high Bs, so I put our carry-ons in the first overheads I could find, row-18.  We sat in row-26.  No problem; I’ll grab them on the way out.  But, when we landed in Long Beach for the first leg, we were informed that the plane would be unloading down the stairways in front and back.  I haven’t exited the back of a plane in 40 years.  When the plane landed, half of the passengers headed toward the back while I tried to move forward to row-18.  The ensuing confusion was like crabs trying to climb out of a bucket.  Have you ever watched crabs climbing out of a bucket?  One crab can climb out easily, but when there are many crabs, the one climbing out first will be grabbed by the crabs behind him and pulled back down.  None of the crabs can escape when the rest are dragging them back.  I felt like one of those crabs.  What a way to meet people! 

 

Last week, Carol and I attended the funeral of Ken Holtzman, one of our classmates and a very famous baseball player.  Funerals somehow fill me with strange thoughts.  As I looked around at the mourners, most of whom were my age, I noticed that we all seemed to be getting shorter.  But that’s ok, I thought.  It just means we’ll have less of a fall when they drop us in the ground.  When we left, our car was at the back of a long line, but by backing out, I was able to save a lot of time.  And I thought – does backing up in a cemetery make you live longer?  Does it make you think strange thoughts?

 

I just saw Joe Biden waxing vainglorious over the news that 18 members of the Kennedy family have endorsed him.  The Kennedy family?  Seriously?  Who cares about the Kennedy family?  It’s been sixty years since the Kennedy’s were in power.  Haven’t we gotten over them yet?  Apparently Joe hasn’t because he seemed thrilled to have found all those people with the Kennedy name and bad teeth to vote for him instead of RFK, Jr.  Which brings up the obvious question:  How many Kennedys does it take to screw up an election?

 

Weekly Word – today the word is vainglorious, which means having or showing excessive pride.  Words on Wheels again.

 

Next week is May Day, a day set aside to honor the Workers of the World.  Actually, it’s just a good excuse to go out and get drunk. And then there’s Cinco de Mayo.  Nobody really cares what the holiday is anyway?  If you get drunk enough, the Fourth Of July, Christmas and Election Day all feel the same.  Come to think of it, we might all need to get drunk on Election Day. 

 

Election Day reminds me a lot of Christmas.  They both are about some old, white man promising to give us free stuff.  The difference is that they don’t celebrate Christmas in Washington, D.C.  That’s because they can’t find three Wise Men.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  This is my birthday; as this very day was Cassius born (Julius Caesar).  Tuesday was my birthday.  I was five and nobody was home to wish me Happy Birthday.  I’m sad.  When he gets home, I’m going to give him such a bite! Meow.

 

Ok, gotta go.  I have to pack up and get ready to come home to St. Louis.  I’ll try to put my carry-on in the right aisle this time.  See you next week.  Stay well and count your blessings.  And Happy Birthday to Shakespeare.  He’s such a good boy.

 

Michael                                     Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com