Ants’ efforts at picnic to eat healthy are futilePublished 11:27am Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Echoes from the Loafers’ Club Meeting
“I hate mornings.”
“Why do you hate mornings? You don’t have a job.”
“I know, but I have to listen to you complain about mornings.”
Driving by the Bruces
I have two wonderful neighbors – both named Bruce – who live across the road from each other. Whenever I pass their driveways, thoughts occur to me, such as: We all fall down. Maintaining one’s balance on a moving planet is not easy.
1. That I’m not much of a shopper, but I do enjoy watching people drift across a busy mall parking lot in search of their automobiles. No age has a corner on the market of losing a car.
2. Happiness is a state of minimum regret.
3. To slow down for Dead Man’s Curve.
1. If fireflies ever forget to turn off their blinkers?
2. Why Superman would leap a tall building in a single bound when he could fly?
3. If Noah’s Ark had a litter box or a poopdeck?
I was speaking in Washington, DC and took time to visit some of the many memorials dotting the landscape. The Lincoln Memorial features a 19-foot tall statue of Abe Lincoln. He is sitting down. He’d be 28 feet tall if he stood up.
“Is statue, Abe?” I mumbled. I couldn’t help it.
As I stared at Abe’s shoes, I recalled something I’d been told. The number of horse’s hooves in the air on statues tells how the rider died. Two hooves in the air means the person died in battle, one raised hoof means the person was injured in battle, and four hooves on the ground means the person survived unharmed. It’s called the Hoof Code in tourist guidebooks. It’s not true. Andrew Jackson’s statue indicates he died in battle, but he succumbed to tuberculosis at the age of 78.
Nursing home diaries
I visited a friend in a nursing home. She lamented that her usefulness had ended. I insisted that her supposition was incorrect and that she still had much to offer.
She thanked me and added, “My problem is that I’m good at a lot of things that I can’t do anymore.”
It was a picnic in the park
I was on my way to a state park for a company picnic for ants. I spotted a bumper sticker reading, “Eat well, stay fit, die anyway.”
I love picnics. Where else can you hear something like, “Who brought this salad and why are the raisins moving?”
Or, “This cookie has so many raisins in it, it is a salad.”
Those thrilling days of yesteryear
I had just received my driver’s license. It was a life-changing event for a whippersnapper. I talked my father into letting me have the car. I was driving down the road when I spotted a friend and good guy, Donny Beyer, driving a car towards me. My feeble brain decided that playing “chicken” was a good idea. This is a game in which a young man aims his car at another to see who swerves first. Donny and I had faith that the other would veer first. Neither did and we scraped both cars. I tend to hug the right side of two-lane highways as I travel. I do so because Donny Beyer could be driving the next car I meet.
It was maps and naps in the good old days. I drove as my wife read the map. We each needed a nap. She assumed the navigator’s duties after I had driven 50 miles on a road that turned out to be nothing more than a crease in the map. That’s when Rule No. 1 became, “The wife is in charge.” Rule No. 2 is, “When in doubt, refer to Rule No. 1.
Talking to the Holstein
I was talking to the Holstein the other day. The Holstein is a retired milk cow, so she has time to talk. I told the Holstein that I was looking for a bullhead recipe.
The Holstein chewed her cud thoughtfully and said, “I have one. It’s called ‘stuffed bullhead.’ You roll the fish in sand, wrap it in weeds, stuff the bullhead in a culvert, and buy a fish sandwich.
“How do birds find enough food to survive during winter?” Birds search for food all day. They don’t Facebook. Birds read the world in ways we cannot understand.
“How many feeder birds live a year?” The first year mortality rate on songbirds is about 70%.
The adjectives for our seasons are, spring (vernal), summer (estival), autumn (autumnal), and winter (hibernal).
Without kindness, heaven would be empty.