Blog #445                                September 18, 2025

 

The other day, I overheard the television.  I wasn’t watching it, of course, but I overheard Jenna interviewing a facial “expert” who was instructing her audience of 30 and 40-year-old women how to avoid wrinkles.  Her advice was to stop laughing.  Preposterous!  This is why we call television a “vast wasteland”. 

 

And speaking of wrinkles, a while back I took my grandson out for dessert.  He ordered a Coke.  He was 15!  Coke for dessert?  “Yes, Poppy, I’m replacing you.”  He knows I have a Diet Coke every single morning.  “You can never replace me,” I replied.  “Sure I can; someday I’ll be old and wrinkled and drinking Coke – just like you.”  I know I’ve never been Paul Newman, but I seem to be trending toward Quasimodo. 

 

There was a time when I actually gave up Coke in protest against one of their ads in which America the Beautiful was sung in seven languages.  Is there no pride in America anymore?  Aren’t Americans allowed a heritage and a music of their own?  We have only one official language.  I don’t want to hear America the Beautiful sung in Chinese.  Try going to Paris and singing France’s national song in English.  Try going to Israel and singing Hatikvah in Arabic.  Go to Iran and sing their national song in Hebrew.  Good luck. What are these people thinking?

 

Message from Shakespeare, the three-legged cat:  With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come (Merchant of Venice).  My Pops has wrinkles, but I like his face.  If I rub my head against his cheeks, it feels like a scratching board.  Purr.

 

Hi, everybody, and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well.  Are you laughing?  Stop it!  It gives you wrinkles.  I will try not to say anything funny

 

University City is a medium-sized suburb of St. Louis with many streets named after universities – Dartmouth, Yale, Harvard, Swarthmore (hence the name University City).  My wife and I both grew up there and, in 1963, we graduated University City High School among a class of 550 happy and hopeful souls.  Each reunion or get-together of our class reveals how our numbers have been winnowed, but last weekend, about 90 of those souls congregated to celebrate the fact that we were all turning 80.  Maybe we were not as happy and hopeful as we were in 1963; maybe grateful and cautious would be more descriptive, but we were loud and talkative and happy to renew friendships that may have faded, but not disappeared.  Many of my faithful readers were there, and let me tell you something – you looked marrrrvelous!  Certainly you girls did, and yes, even though you’re 80, I can still call you girls.  And the guys – well, maybe a little less hair and a little less height, but all-in-all, not bad.  We’ll see you all at our 90^th birthday bash.  I hope we’re all there and still in good shape, but even if we’re not physically perfect, there are plenty of good rock-n-roll songs suitable for 90-year-olds.

 

Wheelin’ in the Years

Limping Jack Flash

I Wanna Hold Your Cane

Let’s Get a Physical

I’ll Be in the Home for Christmas

The Day the Bridge Group Died

 

At the event, there were pictures of previous reunions – pictures that were 30 and 40 years old.  And you know how people react to old pictures.  The women look and say, “God, look at my hair!”  And the men look and say, “I still have that shirt.”  Oh, and a shout out to that fabulous woman at my table.  You know who you are.  It was great to see you guys.

 

Weekly Word:  Winnow -- to reduce the number of items in a list.

 

Why do we remember some things and forget others?  How come I can tell you every word to every Johnny Mathis song but not where my reading glasses are?  Why can I recite all 1,085 words of the Raven but not have a clue where I ate dinner last Saturday night?  Well, at least you remembered to come back today.

 

We all have our list of medical issues.  I have mine, but I’m feeling pretty good lately.  The last time I was feeling poorly, I visited Dr. Intern.  He said I was perfect.  Then I went to Dr. Heart.  He said I was perfect.  I tried Dr. Lung and he agreed – Perfect!  Where did these people go to medical school?  Don’t they know I’m sick?  On the other hand, when I’m feeling great, like today, they find something wrong.  Oh, your calcium is high or your blood count is low.  Your brain is too tight or your pants are too loose.  Let’s add two new pills and cut this pill in half.  It’s like cooking – we add some salt and only use half as many onions and see how it tastes.  Sometimes I think they treat my body like it’s a casserole.

 

If suddenly you’re feeling crummy

Put parsley and sage in your tummy

Rub salt on your glands

And thyme on your hands

You’ll die, but at least you’ll taste yummy.

 

How did we all get this old?  I’m older than the Beaver!  What an idyllic, elysian world they lived in, Wally and the Beav.  Every day they went out to ride their bikes without supervision and without sunscreen or helmets.  They didn’t have seatbelts or gluten-free pretzels or video games or The View.  And I’m positive I never heard the Beav call his grandpa ugly and wrinkled.  Well, they probably didn’t even have grandparents.  All the old folks died off before they could become useless, unemployed, wrinkled old burdens to their family.  Yah, but I never saw anybody take the Beav to the Zoo or tell him pirate stories or sing him songs like “There’s a Dinosaur in My Diaper.”

 

That’s a song I actually wrote for my grandchildren.  They all loved it, especially when they were one or two-years-old and scooting around in diapers.  I don’t need the song now – my youngest is 12½ -- but you never know.  Carol asked me if I would ever sing the Diaper Song again, and you know what my answer was?  “Depends!”

 

Stop it.  I promised not to make you laugh.  It causes wrinkles, you know.  Please stay well, please count your blessings and come back next week. 

 

Quasimodo                     Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com