Blog #424                                April 24, 2025

 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

 

Ok, that wasn’t me, that was Longfellow writing about Paul Revere.  (I’m a poet and I know it, ‘cause my feet show it -- they’re Longfellows.)  You remember Paul Revere, don’t you – one if by land and two if by sea?  Well, I remembered that last Friday was the 250^th anniversary of that historic ride and reminded my friends, and am now reminding all of you.

 

Speaking of friends, grateful thanks to my good friends – Alan, Penny and Alex from North Carolina – for having me join them at a St. Louis Cardinals baseball game last week.  We sat in the “Green Seats”.  These are the seats behind home plate reserved for rock stars, corporate magnates and poor old men with great friends.  When we arrived, we were treated to a monstrous display of gustatory delicacies fit for a prince.  They had more food than Lizzo’s pantry – and all free.  Then, when we were in our seats, a server kept bringing us whatever food and beverages we wanted for the entire game.  Now that’s the way to live.  Oh, and the final score?  Three hotdogs, two Diet Cokes and a box of donut holes.  Perfect.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well and enjoying nice weather and beautiful scenery.  I was in a doctor’s waiting room this week.  I was getting tired of reading my book (I always have a book) so I got up to stretch and look out the window.  Did I see lovely meadows of verdant veldt and crystal-clear bubbling brooks of cool water?  No, from the fifth-floor doctor’s office the only scenery was a concrete morass of entrance ramps and exit ramps and a cloverleaf that had more bypasses than my heart.  It was ugly and artificial and depressing.  I could not wait to get home, put on my walking stuff and head out on the suburban streets around my house.  The weather was perfect, the birds were melodious and welcoming and the lawns and trees were at their springtime best.  There was even a bubbling brook.  It was probably filled with agricultural runoff and industrial waste, but it calmed me nevertheless.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? (Romeo and Juliet).  I have a wonderful porch to play on with lots of windows that look out to trees and birds and squirrels and people walking their dogs.  Pops leaves a window open so I can sit on my cat-tree and smell and hear everything, watching the birds and laughing at the stupid dogs.  Purr.

 

Yesterday was my Shakespeare’s 6^th birthday.  It really was the poet William Shakespeare’s 451st birthday, but I couldn’t fit that many candles on a cake.  Since my cat was deposited on the shelter’s doorstep, we really don’t know Shakey’s birth date.  I picked the other Shakespeare’s birthday to share, so happy birthday to my wonderful three-legged cat – and to that other guy as well.

 

The big news today was that 41% of Americans are obese.  I thought we had gotten past those harsh, accusatory words like “obese”.  We don’t say “illegal aliens” any more.  Now it’s “undocumented immigrants”.  We don’t use “handicapped”, substituting “challenged” instead.  It’s time we got rid of the hateful word “obese”.  I have a modest suggestion:

 

When words are just too filled with hate

A substitute term we’ll create,

So from now on we’ll cease

Calling people “obese”;

We’ll just say they’re “short for their weight”.

 

And speaking of politically correct phrases makes me think of my dad.  He was brought up in the 20s and 30s and had to struggle sometimes to adapt to the new terminology.  In 1994 when Nelson Mandela became President of South Africa, my dad said to me, “What do you think about South Africa electing an African-American president?”  I replied, “Dad, he’s not an African-American; he’s an African-African.”  He smiled.  As Gabriel Garcia Marquez said, “Wisdom comes to us when it can no longer do any good.”  My Dad was doing his job, acting like an old person.  I seem to do that a lot now, but giraffes have giraffes, apples grow on apple trees and old people talk about old people.

 

For instance, I’m sure you have noticed that old folks, to a large degree, are slow drivers, and I want to explain to you why we are.  It’s not that our eyes are blurred or our reflexes are poor.  And it’s not because our cars are old and decrepit.  The real reason we drive slowly is that we are no longer in a hurry.  Where do we have to go, Senior Day at Walgreens?  It can wait.  When you’re young you want everything to come fast.

 

·        I can’t wait till I get rich.

·        I can’t wait till my kids are grown and I have some time to myself.

·        Just ten more years and I’ll have it made.

·        Just ten more years!  I can’t wait. 

 

Well, what young people are waiting for is exciting – success, freedom, prestige.  I have never heard a senior say, “Just ten more years and I’ll have it made.”  We can wait.  We have nothing else to do but wait.  Besides, what could I possibly be looking forward to in ten years? My cell-phone getting more complicated?  My back getting worse?  More pills on my kitchen table?  Oprah getting skinny?  So what difference does it really make if I miss that green light?  I’ll just get to the Dollar Store thirty seconds later.  So don’t honk at slow drivers.  Relax, slow down, take a breath.  One of these days you won’t be in such a hurry any more.

 

I notice things – things that rhyme, things that have patterns, things that are funny.  I just noticed that this is Blog #424 and the date is April 24, also written 4/24.  Isn’t that a strange coincidence?  And now I’ve noticed that it’s time to go.  But not before our Weekly Word, which is gustatory.  It means relating to or associated with eating.

 

Stay well and count your blessings.  And don’t rush; everything can wait.  Even Limerick Oyster can wait till next week.  See you then.

 

Michael                          Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com