Blog #478 May 7, 2026
Last weekend, we took a
little trip to Las Vegas. Southwest
Airlines was wonderful. The plane was on
time and the flight was pleasant. Just
the thought of the amazing engineering and sophisticated technology that goes
into crafting a vehicle that can carry 200 people through the air at 30,000
feet and 600 miles per hour while carefully monitoring electronically every
meteorological and aeronautic aspect of the flight is mind-bending. It makes you wonder, though, (and I know you
know what’s coming) – it makes you wonder why these super-smart engineers cannot
design a speaker system on which you can actually understand what they’re
saying. “The captain scribbitz
gwaldemang tooseidram the cokseld.”
And the system in the terminal is even worse. “Would the passenger Qgoblhet
Jugfurnace, please fribitz his flabunglator to gate forsemonty.” They can take people to the
Moon. You’d think they could make a
speaker system.
Hi there and welcome
back. I hope you’re feeling well. Did you celebrate May Day on May 1 and Star
Wars Day on May 4? May the fourth be with
you. And if you don’t know what that
means, well, I’m not sure what to say.
I hope it’s not one
of those days for
you. You know what I mean, a day when
everything is wrong, hopeless or broken.
It seems like a lot of days are one of those days nowadays. I’m feeling it too. Maybe it’s just my weekly angst over finding
something that will entertain you. I
mean it’s been 478 weeks and often I worry where the next thought is coming
from. 478 weeks! That’s longer than any of Elon Musk’s wives
lasted.
But I decided not to worry. Worry is like a rocking chair – it’s something to
do, but it doesn’t get you anywhere.
Besides, I’ve come to feel confident that some bizarre concoction of
insanity and foolishness will pop out of my strange head if I squeeze hard
enough. How about a confession.
I don’t actually know why
I feel the compunction to lay bare all the peccadilloes, foibles,
idiosyncrasies and utter stupidities that speckle my life. But here it is. On the way back from Las Vegas, I left my
computer at the airport. You know, you
have to put your laptop in a separate bin and run it through security, and I
forgot to retrieve it. I’m sure there
were notifications on the loud speaker announcing that some blithering fool had
left his computer behind, but of course, nobody could understand the loud
speaker. I didn’t realize what I had
done until I got home and unpacked my carry-on.
I was devastated,
embarrassed, almost suicidal. Me without
my computer is like a snail without a shell, like a car without a steering
wheel, like a baby without his bankie, like a politician without his
teleprompter. I wigged out and had a
mini-breakdown. But my trusty, loyal,
clever and lovely wife rescued me. She
called the lost and found at the airport.
They located the errant electronics and Fed-Exed it to me within a
couple of days. Thank you, Honey.
You didn’t know I had foibles,
did you? That’s our Weekly Word
and means minor weaknesses or eccentricities.
I’m loaded with them.
Message from Shakespeare: Praising
what is lost makes the remembrance dear (All’s Well That Ends Well). I hope Pops
doesn’t lose me somewhere and have to ship me home in a box. I’m not traveling anywhere with him. He’s not trustworthy. I’ll just stay here and wait for him to come
home. If he can find it. Purr.
Now to something
important. Do
you have a middle name? Do you remember
your middle name? Is there any reason
for having a middle name? I am convinced
that the sole purpose of a child's middle name is so he can tell when he's
really in trouble. If my mother called
out “Michael”, she just wanted to see me.
If she yelled “Michael Bruce”,
I knew some serious punishment was on my horizon. Some people have more than one middle name,
like Julia Scarlett Elizabeth Louis-Dreyfus.
I have a granddaughter with two middle names. And then, of course, there’s Picasso, or
should I say:
That’s his real name.
By the time he wrote all that on the canvas, there was so little room
left he had to squash up the faces.
I just got the mail.
Let’s see – a discount on hearing aids, an invitation to visit the new
elderly facility, a free dinner if I listen to a money manager, 30% off at
Kohl’s and a whole bunch of stuff addressed to Resident, Occupant
or Loser. Is this too exciting for you? This is my life!
But wait, what’s
that? A small envelope with a
hand-written address and no bar codes.
It was from my granddaughter – snail mail. Not an e-mail or a fax. Not a text or a tweet or a twit or a
twoot. Not a Facebook or a YouTube or a Snapchat. Just a little old envelope with my name
written on it in pencil. I dove for it
like a pelican after a sardine. Isn’t it
funny how something as simple as an actual letter can be so exciting?
I needed a battery in my
watch and I went to a Chinese-run place that sells purses and belts and hats
and gimcracks of all sorts. I walked in
and said Ni Hau to the owner. That’s Mandarin for “hello”. I learned that when I taught English to
Chinese students. The owner replied,
“We’re Korean. We all look alike.” I
apologized, of course. When I left, she
said, “Goodbye, John.” No, I
said. Don’t you remember me? I’m Michael.
Oh, she replied:
Please
put on my record a strike
I
truly forgot you were Mike.
I’m
just poor Korean
Have
trouble with seein’
Besides
all you Whites look alike.
I think I’m finished for
this week. You made it through another
one. I’m proud of you. Stay happy and in good health, count your
blessings, and Hung Hau. That’s Mandarin for “Your camel has whooping cough.” You’d be surprised how often that comes up. See you next week, if I don’t lose my computer
again.
Michael Send
comments to mfox1746@gmail.com
