My ex-college roomie, Big Buff, and I exchanged emails this morning about our grandchildren. He lives in NE Oklahoma and is very fortunate to have two grandkids living in the same community. I'm jealous.
At any rate, after four or five emails I thought, "This is sort of stupid to email and since there aren't long distance charges why not call him"? So I did.
We chatted for awhile then the subject of my blog came up. He said that he's forever telling his friends they should log on. "MJ", he said, "it astounds me how you can go back years in your life and remember the most minute pieces of information. You recall dates, years and situations like it was yesterday." While he's speaking my mind is racing. If I have a mind for detail why can't I remember where I put my car keys last night.He also mentioned how very much he enjoyed my personal interest stories. That made yours truly feel good. I have another friend in Florida who has said much the same.
The reason I reprint so many items is because the are fillers. I'll copy items from different sources for one reason. I'm not inspired. It'd be phony to sit down at the computer and think, "Wow, I'm going to write a story about my past". Then, I'd sit there looking at the sky and pretty soon a filler would come along.
One has to be very careful about re-creating stories from the past especially if the subject is still alive. Furthermore, I could write absolute horror stories about my parents and growing up Boone, Iowa. But, I still have family alive and if they read certain items it could dredge up bad memories for them.
I'm a firm believer in self-deprecating humor; making fun of myself because of ridiculous circumstances in which I've placed myself. Every so often someone will ask, What's the dumbest thing you've ever done in your life"? My pat answer is, "drunk or sober". There's enough material for both to fill the Guttenberg library.
I like to believe I'm a good story teller especially when it's off the cuff. Two years ago my three children and their's were at our Minnesota lake place. One night we were all sitting around the camp fire and I started to regale them with a 99% true story. My grandkids, all ten of them, were in attendance. Nine of them were between the ages of eleven and five.
One night, I began, I was by myself at the lake and sitting on the screened in porch watching television and all of a sudden I heard a noise behind me. I looked around and the largest raccoon I'd ever seen was on its haunches with its feet leaning on the screen. It must have stood five feet tall. For a moment I was petrified. Then I let out a scream and the critter made a beeline for somewhere. Fifteen minutes later I wanted a soda so I opened the screen door to walk into the side door to the kitchen. As I put my hand on the door knob that darned raccoon had climbed up and onto the under hang of the roof. With great ferocity and gnashing of teeth it snarled and jumped on my back. Well, I did what any scaredy cat would. I started swinging. Kabbom! I Ianded a punch on the right side of its snout. And then Bop! I landed another on the other side and the Coon took off. And that's when I swore to my grandchildren-under oath-"And that's why to to this very day raccoons have to this very day two black eyes".
You see, that's the neat aspect of being a grandpa. Were allowed to tell a lie(fib) and get away with it as long as we don't swear or take God's name in vane.
