Blog #398                                October 24, 2024

 

Last Sunday afternoon, it was quiet, peaceful.  I had finished everything I had planned to accomplish, so I went back into our bedroom and sat in my “reading chair”.  It’s the most comfortable chair in the house with good lighting from a floor lamp.  Carol was reading in the front part of the house, so there was no television noise.  I sat down, pulled a warm quilted blanket on my lap and began to read my Stephen King book.  I love Stephen King.  This is my 64^th King book, but I am also reading The Count of Monte Christo by A. Dumas.  Montesquieu, the famous French political philosopher, said, “To love reading is to exchange hours of boredom for hours of delight.”  The Dumas book is about 1,300 pages, so I’m only reading four pages a day.  I’ll be finished sometime next summer.  I know, I’m weirder than a seven-legged snake, but that’s just me.  Anyway, there I was – just me, my chair, my blanket, and my book.  No noise, nobody bothering me.  Heaven!

 

A minute later, Shakespeare found me.  He always does when I’m reading.  He jumps up, sniffs the book to make sure he has already placed his scent on it, curls up on my lap and begins to purr as I scratch his neck.  Well, I love my cat and, after all, it was still just me, my chair, my blanket, my book and my cat.  Double Heaven!

 

Then my daughter found me.  She was calling from North Carolina to brag about winning a pickleball tournament and just to chat with her old Dad.  I was very excited for her.  Now I had Shakespeare purring in my lap and Jennifer crowing in my ear.  So that was nice -- just me, my chair, my blanket, my book, my loving cat and my wonderful daughter.  Triple Heaven!

 

Then Carol found me and traipsed in to become part of the conversation.  Shakespeare in my lap, Stephen King resting by my side, Jennifer on the phone, Carol in the other chair.  All of a sudden, my quiet little spot had become as crowded as a meeting of P. Diddy’s lawyers.  But hey, it was just me, my chair, my blanket, my book my loving cat, my wonderful daughter and my precious wife.  How much luckier can a guy be?

 

And now you found me.  Well, come right on in.  Everybody else is here.  Hi there and welcome back to my asylum.  I’ve got a lot to talk about, so strap yourself in.  I hope you’re feeling well.  I’m feeling sort of nonplussed.  My iPhone got updated.  Stop it!  I don’t want my phone changed.  Which iPhone big-wig can I complain to?  Is there a Mr. Apple, a Mrs. Apple, a Granny Apple?  Whoever you are, stop changing my phone as soon as I get used to the last load of crap you threw in there.  I don’t need it to do anything else.  I can call, text, email or FaceTime anyone in the world.  I can get the weather and the time and Google.  And Siri gives me directions, even though I still get lost.  Plus, I can find my wife.  I have an app that can track Carol’s phone anywhere on the planet, and once I find her phone, she is usually there too.  Hey, I’ve known where she was for 57 years; I’m not about to lose her now.

 

Oh, and now Granny Apple wants me to use face recognition.  I presume that means my face, but that’s a problem.  My face changes over the years.  Just look at my wedding pictures.  Who was that skinny, little pipsqueak?  My face has changed so much, my wife only recognizes me because of the clothes I’m wearing.  I don’t want to use face-recognition anyway because then the only way Carol would be able to use my phone would be to make her face somehow look like mine.  That would be as likely as Heidi Klum making herself look like Big Bird.  I wonder if Big Bird is getting shorter as he gets older.  He’s probably Medium Bird by now.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Like to the lark at break of day arising sings hymns at heaven’s gate (Romeo and Juliet).  I don’t know what Big Bird or Medium Bird is, but I like little birds.  I can watch them and hear them when Pops opens the window for me.  If I cry or scream enough, he’ll do anything for me.  He’s such a good boy!  Purr.

 

Weekly Word:  Nonplussed means surprised and confused, off-balance, bent out of shape, disoriented, taken by surprise.  You get the picture.

 

This past week marked the passing of a very close friend.  Harvey was a good friend and a good man.  We were friends for fifty years, played bridge together, poker together, travelled together.  All of his friends and family will miss him.

 

The holiday services at my Temple the past few weeks included a lot of wonderful music, and it got me wondering.  Music is universally written left to right, but the Hebrew words are written right to left.  How does that work?  I did some research and here’s what I found.  I’m serious now.  The music goes, of course, left to right and the Hebrew lyrics proceed left to right under the corresponding notes, even though each Hebrew word is spelled right to left.  Sounds confusing, but it seems to work.  And as soon as I discovered this, the seven-legged snake inside me decided there had to be a limerick there: 

 

Hebrew music is read left to right

With words underneath in plain sight

But Jews write each word

Right to left – how absurd

That’s it – nothing more left to write.

 

Now show me an Apple update that can write a limerick about Hebrew music.  Anyway, the limerick was wrong!  I have plenty left to write, and you can come back next week for more.  You know, I complain about all the technology and the phones, but it’s all pretty wonderful.  You have your Bridge online and your Zoom calls with your family and your conference calls with your friends and you have me every week.  And I have you.  Aren’t we lucky!  Let’s do it again next week.  Until then, stay well and count your blessings.  Later!

 

Michael                                             Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com