What is worth a thought?

Published 8:14 am Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Echoes From the Loafers’ Club Meeting

A penny for your thoughts.

I’m thinking of joining a chronic nose-pickers support group.

Email newsletter signup

That wasn’t worth a penny.

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: I made myself some toast for breakfast before I left home. I thought about putting both butter and peanut butter on the toast, but then I asked myself, “Who am I? Wolfgang Puck?” I went with just the Skippy. The good stuff with the honey in it.

The cafe chronicles

At a cafe, a fellow diner, in a remarkable display of Scandinavian optimism said, “It can’t get any worse.”

The truth was that the food was so good that it could have made a dog break its chain. The cafe didn’t need napkins. It had bread to sop up any spill. Men were eating things that they shouldn’t be eating–a case of delicious mischief.

“What can I get you?” asked the waitress.

“Too much,” I replied.

Mapping a retirement

I’ve always liked maps. At least ever since that day I had to do a book report in history class and the book I had chosen contained 38 pages of maps. It made for a quick read.

We all think of retiring one day. What are we going to do then? Curly Howard of the 3 Stooges may have taken up archery. “I shoot an arrow into the air, where it lands I do not care: I get my arrows wholesale!” said he. All I can say about retirement is never underestimate a man’s ability to do nothing. Men give up the things they don’t do well or want to do, over the years, until they retire. Then they are left with the capability of doing nothing but volunteering and spoiling the younger members of the family. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I reckon taking up the serious reading of maps might be good retirement planning.

Smaller town

“Small Town” is a 1985 song written by John Mellencamp. The song reached No. 6 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. “Well I was born in a small town. And I live in a small town. Probably die in a small town.” Mellencamp was born in Seymour, Indiana (population 17,500). He grew up in and lives in Bloomington, Indiana, which has a population of 80,000.

I grew up not far from a town named Bath. It has a population of zero.

A scene from the past, take two

“Don’t worry, Grandpa won’t bite you. His teeth aren’t even in this room. His dentures come out in conversation. He laughed so hard his false teeth flew out today. I know it’s a good thing when people are able to get a good laugh, but they had to close down the buffet.”

From the mailbag

Here are a couple of reports received that were too good to keep to myself.

Joyce Tabor of Askov wrote that her father had taught her this, “Spring’s here,” said the robin.

“Where?” asked the crow.

“Here,” said the robin.

“Oh,” said the crow.

Stephen Ingraham of Kennebunk, Maine wrote, “I hung a new thistle feeder, one of those long white socks full of seed things, with a bright yellow cap, but the finches still seem to prefer the labor of shelling black-oil sunflower seeds. Tough breed of finches we have here in Maine. I saw my first finch on the sock today, but the other finches, from their perches on the sunflower feeder, were clearly looking askance. I think they might have been making mockery of thistle feeding finches in general, and that pioneer finch in particular. I think, I’m pretty sure, in time’s sweet time the whole flock will become sock acclimated. Thistle does go down a treat (so I hear, and if you are a finch) even in rugged Maine. I can wait. I already paid for the feeder.”

Nature notes

Tom Benson of Hartland asked when the dark-eyed juncos leave. The darling little snowbirds, gray above and white below just like winter, leave us some time from March to May. Late departures might be because they’d traveled farther south. Flights are delayed or canceled due to bad weather. Some of the juncos nest in northeastern Minnesota.

Meeting adjourned

Ubuntu is an old and beautiful concept. Ubuntu can be translated as “human kindness,” but its meaning is larger in scope than that. Leymah Gbowee once defined it as, “I am what I am because of who we all are.” Be kind.