Blog #395                                October 3, 2024

 

Like every one of you, I wear many hats:

 

·        I am my wife’s protector, chauffer, errand-runner, on-line shopper and returner.  One day this week, for instance, I returned to Target three shirts she bought on Monday, returned to Whole Foods three shirts she bought on Amazon Tuesday and returned to CVS a blood-pressure cuff she bought on Wednesday, put gas in her car at Costco and did her grocery shopping at Walmart.

·        I am my daughters’ father.  I supply whatever love and support I can, and always an open pair of ears to listen.

·        I am my cat’s everything – father, mother, companion, provider and playmate.

·        I am my grandchildren’s Poppy.  I try.  They don’t need me much anymore, but I try to keep in touch and support them.  They always know they can find some love here.

·        I am a friend to -- well, my friends.

·        I am, to several hundred people in St. Louis and other places, their resident wordsmith.  Need a poem for an occasion, call Michael.  Need someone to speak at a funeral, call Michael.  Besides that, I deliver 1,000 words to my daughters every Sunday and 1,066 words of humor and opinion every Thursday to you.

·        I am an Ambassador at the St. Louis Zoo, helping visitors to enjoy the Zoo experience.

·        I am my household’s manager, accountant, bill-payer, records-keeper, light bulb installer, toilet paper replacer, supply chain manager, car servicer and maintenance supervisor.

·        I am my body’s overseer.  I feed it pills, drop drops into it, spread lotions on it, take it on walks, take it to doctors and generally supervise its constant maintenance.  I have to, don’t I?  I have all those other people (and a cat) counting on me.

 

It’s all a little overwhelming to a person who basically wants to be left alone.

 

I’m recently feeling that I’m

Just running around all the time

To the store, to the Zoo

And I write blogs to you

Make it quick, make it work, make it rhyme.

                            

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you’re feeling well and feeling hungry.  Many of my Jewish friends are in the middle of celebrating the holiday of Rosh Hashanah and looking forward to some matzo-ball soup and brisket for dinner tonight.  I am.  I have a bunch of random thoughts for you today.  Let’s start with Martha Stewart.

 

I saw Martha Stewart last week.  She was on some TV show making cakes or something.  Every time I see her, I just can’t believe she was sent to prison.  I don’t even remember what she did.  What crime could you possible send this exemplary homemaker to prison for?  Drunk and orderly?  Driving while perfect?  Baking and entering?  Assault with a deadly spatula?  I’ll bet she was the only person who ever looked good in stripes.

 

On my walk today, I noticed a little, fuzzy caterpillar – rust-colored and black, about two inches long and fat.  He was crawling along the top of a concrete barrier about three feet tall.  I stopped, took a picture and went on my way.  I came to the end of my path, turned around, walked some more and came back to the caterpillar.  He had made some progress along the barrier, but was not going to reach any vegetation in the near future.  Wait, you’re not going to get all pronoun-frazzled about a caterpillar, are you?  No, I don’t know whether it was a he-pillar or a she-pillar, but I’ve chosen to treat him as masculine because the poor thing was obviously lost.

 

Men are so stubborn about asking directions.  I see it at the Zoo all the time.  Some guy is looking over a map while his companion (wife? girlfriend? parole officer?) watches.  I walk up and offer my services.  No, the man says, I have it figured out.  I then turn toward the distaff half and say, “Men never accept directions.  Come see me when you’re lost.”  C’mon, men, you know I’m right.  We never take directions. “Siri be damned, I know how to get there.”  Really?  You don’t know where your reading glasses are.  You barely know where the bathroom is.  And how many times have you lost your car in the parking lot?  We, as husbands, have learned how to say yes to everything.  Yes. Dear.  Yes, Honey.  Whatever you want, Cupcake.  Except, “Let’s ask directions.”  We would sooner be spayed than ask directions.  I’m a man!  I know what I’m doing!  And what do we do when we finally and inevitably get lost?  We start yelling at our wives, as if they had anything to do with our galactic idiocy.  I’d better stop; my wife is calling.  Yes. Dear.  Yes, Honey.  Whatever you want, Cupcake. 

 

Anyway, I picked up the lost little caterpillar and laid him in the grass.  As Martin Luther King said, “The time is always right to do what is right.”  Besides, I like little fuzzy things.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin (Troilus and Cressida).  I am very glad he likes little, fuzzy things because I’m little and fuzzy too.  Actually, I think he likes any creature that starts with C-A-T.  Purr.

 

It’s time to go now.  I have been obnoxiously loquacious enough for one Thursday.  Loquacious, our Weekly Word, means talking a great deal, and I certainly confess to that.  This week, I have talked about hats and caterpillars and Martha Stewart, probably a lot more interesting than shoes and ships and sealing wax. 

 

Actually, in continuance of my loquacity, the “shoes, ships, sealing wax” reference is from Alice in Wonderland:

 

The time has come,' the Walrus said,

      To talk of many things:

Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —

      Of cabbages — and kings —

And why the sea is boiling hot —

      And whether pigs have wings.'

 

Alice also contains a caterpillar, a Hookah-Smoking Caterpillar actually, who instructs Alice how to use the mushroom: “One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.”  Wouldn’t that be a helpful little thing to carry in your pocket?  The Caterpillar also gives Alice advice: “Keep your temper”, he says.

 

Did you watch the Vice-Presidential Debate?  Here’s what I think.  We should get rid of Harris and Trump and let these two guys be Co-Presidents.  Alright, folks, now it’s really time to go.  I have to go return something Carol bought.  Stay well, count your blessings and keep your temper.  I’ll see you next week.

 

The Walrus                               Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com