When he was about 11 years old, my brother Dan walked in the door one day after school wearing a New York Yankees ball cap.
While recorded history stretches pretty far back, it doesn’t go back far enough to tell us the name of the person who invented the yard sale. Perhaps it was an early caveman named Og Yard. Maybe Og had decided to unload a bunch of spears and clubs he didn’t need any more by staging a cave sale – or maybe he called it a “spring cave-cleaning sale.”
I’m planning to write one of those self-help, motivational books one of these days. That is, if I can get up for it. I almost got around to it yesterday, but I got invited to a chili feed at the last moment.
Can you spot the sentence that is not contained within our nation’s Declaration of Independence?
The other day, I thought of a new law that ought to be enacted.
Among the sights I have yet to see is that of a protestor marching in front of the corporate headquarters of Raid, carrying a placard that says, “End the killing of spiders, fleas, houseflies, chiggers, mealworms and cockroaches!”
Fathers Day is coming up this week, and so is my dad’s 85th birthday. I sure wish he were going to be here to celebrate both occasions, but he’s been gone for 20 years.
Ever met one of those people who seemingly can do everything? I know a guy like that.
Dr. Michael DeBakey, the renowned heart surgeon, received the Congressional Medal of Honor recently. He’s going to be a hundred years old this year, so apparently somebody figured they better get to it.
After three decades of being married to the same woman, you would think a guy would have a pretty solid knowledge of that woman’s likes and dislikes. But on Mother’s Day, five years ago, I had an apparent brain cramp.
His race for Dufur public office was not going well. The voters in Dufur (DOO-fur), a small town in Oregon, were leaning to his opponent in overwhelming numbers – or at least as overwhelming as a town of 500 can muster.
I helped a friend and his wife load their stuff into a big U-Haul some days ago. They were moving to southern California. Some people think a move from this part of the world to that part is sort of like trading a gentle scalp massage for a whack on the head with a garden rake. That’s a bit of an exaggeration. A small shovel would be more like it.
A neighbor of mine – Tony – is trying his best to take this “going green” thing seriously. For example, he tells me that he’s recently begun recycling his newspaper each week. “The entire newspaper?” I asked. He shook his head. “No, “he admitted. “ Just your column.”
