You Are Really Old If...

 

*Your underwear is older than some of your doctors.

*You remember when most cars had no seat belts, air conditioning, or power steering.

*Boy Scouts begin helping you across the street.

*You used a slide rule in math class.

*A friend with benefits is considered to be someone who can still drive.

*You often use the phrase, “Back in my day.”

*You call young people “whippersnappers.”

*Most of the names in your little black book are followed by “M.D.”

*You remember watching “My Little Margie” on TV.

*Folks working in restaurants and department stores begin calling you “honey” and “sweety.”

*Your son or daughter is about to retire.

*Your grandchild asks if you voted for Lincoln.

*You answer your grandchild's question in the affirmative.

*You owned a Roy Rogers lunchbox.

*You can read cursive writing.

*You remember when churches were usually full on Sundays.

*You had teachers with paddles who were more than willing to use them.

*A hot bowl of soup trumps a hot date.

*A nap is the most rewarding part of the day.

*Any person under the age of sixty you call a “kid.”

*Someone compliments your turtleneck sweater, but you're not wearing one.

*Your “get up and go” has “gotten up and left.”

*The children and grandchildren think “your” music stinks.

*You think their music should be outlawed.

*You grew up listening to Lawrence Welk.

*Most of your exercise comes during the night when you go to the bathroom several times.

*You really start to believe your youthful years were the “good old days.”

The Kids Enjoyed my "Whoppers"

I miss the days when my daughter and son were kids. If it were possible, I'd love to live that segment of my life again. Some of the greatest memories centered around me telling them some of the most unbelievable whoppers. The kids knew these were tall tales, but they loved to hear them. My objective was twofold: To entertain them and to spark creativity.

I told the children they didn't realize how old Mom was. During her childhood years, she would pack a lunch, stand along the road, and then wait for the school stagecoach to arrive. Furthermore, I added, fire drills and tornado drills did not yet exist. Instead, when an alarm sounded at the school, Mom and her classmates grabbed their rifles and headed to their assigned slots in the wall, where they would repulse Indian raids.

It is no secret that my wife and her family love fairs, zoos, and circuses. Several years ago, when the kids were little dudes, we traveled to the state fair with my sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and their children. After a few hours at the fair, the kids wanted to go home, but the sisters aggressively vetoed that idea. A couple of hours later, the men suggested it was time to go, but to no avail.

From this true story, I exaggerated just a bit. I told the kids that Mom and her sister once went to a fair and refused to leave. They went through the animal barns so often that the critters soon greeted them by name. Eventually, the fair manager handed my wife the keys and told them to lock the main gate when and if they ever decided to leave.

One aspect of comedy is exaggeration. My wife and her family love popcorn, especially when it is drowned in butter, so I told the kids that many years ago, she was accidentally locked in a popcorn factory over the weekend. By the time of her release on Monday, she weighed over 500 pounds and had to be retrieved from the factory with a forklift. Of course, after her visit, there was no popcorn left in the building.

We talked about how dogs can be trained to track missing persons and escaped criminals. The children did not know, however, that their mother had even more amazing skills than this. If the wind was blowing just right, she could pinpoint a popcorn factory from up to seventy miles away!

My father-in-law was one of the most wonderful human beings I've had the pleasure of knowing. His daughter told the family on numerous occasions that he proudly could proclaim that alcohol had never touched his lips. Therefore, I informed the kids that their grandfather had simply used a straw. They thought that was funny; my wife, not so much.

I told the kids I could read their minds. Naturally, they didn't believe me. However, they had to agree with me when I announced they were thinking I couldn't tell what they were thinking.

The children were impressed when I informed them that their mother held the North American speed record for backing out of a driveway. In fact, I insisted, her car's speedometer, rather than in miles per hour, was listed at Moch 1 and Moch 2. Furthermore, by law, I explained, she had to file a flight plan before taking a trip.

Thanks to me, I informed the kids, a miracle took place at our church. When I began singing, folks in their 90s, some of whom were wheelchair-bound, for the first time in decades were able to get up and sprint from the church. For some reason, my adult children believe this particular story could be true. I guess they've heard me sing!

The kids were informed that long ago, I had a tryout with the New York Yankees. I told them only three little, inconsequential factors kept me from being signed: I couldn't hit, run, or throw. However, I looked great in a Yankee uniform. The kids found it hard to believe I looked great in pinstripes.

They laughed about the story in which I claimed their mother thought I should be a member of royalty. They did, however, agree that at times she probably wished to crown me. As a matter of fact, since I love hamburgers so much, she has dubbed me “Sirloin of Beef.” How's that for a royal title?

Most importantly, the kids knew this: Both their mother and I love each other, and we love them unconditionally. There was never any kidding about that.

Except for Sports, My Wife is Nearly Perfect

My wife is the most wonderful person I've ever met; she's intelligent, kind, generous, and hardworking. However, when we met, she had one glaring deficiency: she didn't know the difference between a baseball bat and a hockey stick. Unbelievably, sports had no place in her life.

The ancient Greeks and Romans were passionate about sports, despite some of their contests being brutal and inhumane. According to their writers, intellectuals, and religious leaders, the gods had created such events as wrestling, boxing, foot races, and even gladiator fights. How can anyone, I ask, ignore sports when they are created by the gods?

My idea of a fulfilling Saturday afternoon is to make a sandwich, pull a cold beverage from the refrigerator, and then settle down in front of the TV set to watch several hours of baseball, basketball, or football, depending upon the sporting season. (This is how sporting nuts view the seasons of the year. We do not need to refer to such antiquated terms as “November” or “Spring.”)

My wife shared a lack of passion with my father when it came to sporting events. Dad, who grew up an orphan during the Great Depression (What was so great about it?), had little time to play games or even learn about them, so during his adult years, he'd carefully read every section of the daily newspaper, including the advertisements, with one exception-he'd skip the sports edition.

I, on the other hand, fell head over heels in love with baseball, basketball, and football. Until my teenage years, we were the proud owners of one TV set, so when Dad came home, one could either watch what he had chosen or go do something else. (Mom also gave us a choice at mealtime: Take it or leave it.)

Dad worked on Saturdays, so if my favorite college basketball teams played in the daytime, I could leisurely watch them. However, if a game was played at night, I was out of luck. Then, Dad closed in our front porch, turning it into a fine extra room. Besides equipping it with a sofa and chairs, he added a portable TV set.

For some still unknown reason, he did not have a heat duct extended to the new enclosure, so in the winter, he stayed in the living room. Of course, that situation got the wheels turning in my little brain.

So when one of my teams played a night game, I'd put on my coat, hat, and gloves before secretly departing through the kitchen door. Carefully, I unlocked the door to the new room. Dad was sitting in his favorite recliner on the other side of the wall, so I couldn't turn on any lights or even turn the TV's volume much higher than a whisper. So, while sitting inches from the set and shivering uncontrollably, I watched the game before silently retreating to the kitchen.

By the age of ten, I could list the statistics of every Major League player, pro and college basketball performer, and football star. For instance, in 1961, baseball great Roger Maris hit .269 while knocking in 142 runs and hitting a then-record 61 home runs. Those memories seem to be impressive, but on the other hand, I have no idea what I ate for breakfast this morning. (Did I eat breakfast today?)

Then I married this most wonderful lady who barely knew anything about the world's three greatest sports. Naturally, I took it upon myself to educate her in this most important aspect of life. She's progressed, but still has a way to go.

Last week, she kept me shopping for a good hour after the big football game had started. Once at home, I made a peanut butter sandwich and grabbed a cold brew before rushing to the TV set. My honey came in a few minutes later, asking about the score. When I told her it was 0-0, she smiled and replied: “See, you didn't miss a thing.”

In a couple of days, her alma mater and my alma mater will go to war on the football field. I asked her which team she'll root for. Her answer: “I'm going to root for both.”

I can't wait until kickoff to see how she accomplishes this feat: “Catch it; no drop it! Intercept it; no, get a touchdown! That was an awful call; it was also a great call! Make that tackle! No, miss the tackle.”

Now I know how Dr. Frankenstein felt, for I've created a monster! What if this catches on and sports fans across the country begin rooting for their teams and their opponents? It's not natural, I say. 

Nothing but the Truth?

 As little kids, we were told that our two greatest presidents, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, were always honest. Try as they may, they could not tell a lie. Somehow, I find that hard to believe.

First of all, we must remember that both Mr. Washington and Mr. Lincoln were politicians, and furthermore, Lincoln was a lawyer. I’m not saying that lawyers lie more often than do other members of society, but they do ignore or try to obliterate any part of the truth that might hurt their clients. Notice that Congress has strict penalties against lying to it, but some politicians have made a nice living by distorting the truth (members of both parties have been guilty).

There’s a funny commercial where Mrs. Lincoln asks her husband if a bustle on the back of her dress made her look fat. Poor Lincoln wanted to spare her feelings, and moreover, he tried to avoid his wife’s wrath. The poor guy finally admitted that it made her look “just a little” fat. No doubt the Great Emancipator slept on the sofa for several nights.

Supposedly, a young George Washington chopped down his father’s favorite cherry tree. When asked about the incident, George admitted to his father that he was the culprit. Thanks to his honesty, the story goes, George escaped punishment.

However, there’s another story about a boy who pushed the family outhouse over a cliff. The youngster admitted to his father that he had done the terrible deed. As the Old Man began to remove his belt to give the kid a good tanning, the son exclaimed: “Dad, when George Washington confessed to cutting down his father’s cherry tree, he was not punished.”

“This is different,” said the father. “George’s dad wasn’t in that cherry tree when it was chopped down.”

Imagine that your spouse has spent several hours preparing a special meal for your birthday. While he or she watches anxiously, you sample the steak, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and homemade bread. Unfortunately, the meal is not very good. Eating cardboard would have been an improvement.

You have two choices. You may decide to be brutally honest and say something like: “Thanks for spending all that time in the kitchen, dear, but to tell the truth, it didn’t taste very good. Sorry.“ Now you’ve upset your spouse; no doubt this will add an extra strain on the marriage, and you can bet that the bad place somewhere below us will freeze over before he or she ever does anything special for you again!

Here is the second option, the well-known “white lie:” “This was so thoughtful of you, dear! Did I like it? This was one of the best meals I’ve ever had! Thank you, sweetheart!” In this case, a statement that veers slightly off the road of truth has given a shot of self-esteem to your spouse, and you’ve earned some brownie points against the next time you forget to carry out the garbage or read the meter, or take out the dog.

There are times, of course, when one would be stupid to lie. Be perfectly honest when it comes to paying taxes. That way, you can sleep peacefully and know that you’ve paid your fair share. Don’t lie to the doctor. For example, don’t tell her you feel fine when in reality you’re having chest pains. And as I mentioned earlier, don’t lie whenever you’re under oath; judges, Congressmen, and other government types don’t take kindly to those kinds of actions.

But sometimes honesty is not the best policy. And that’s the truth!

Dear Gabby

 

• Have a problem? Write to “Dear Gabby” for insightful recommendations.

Dear Gabby: My wife has left me, and she took our dog with her. What shall I do?

I am so sorry for your tragic loss. A good dog is hard to replace. Perhaps, in time, you will recover to the point that your heart will be open to getting another one.

Dear Gabby: Every night I watch several news programs. Often, the politicians contradict one another. How can I tell when they're not being truthful?

Scientists have discovered a foolproof way to find out when politicians are lying. It's whenever they open their mouths.

Dear Gabby: I have horrible halotosis. I've tried every product on the market but to no avail. What can I do?

Learn to live with it. Remember, bad breath is better than no breath at all (then you would be dead.)

Dear Gabby: My wife calls me stupid nicknames. I hate them all. What should I do?

As long as she calls you for supper, don't worry about it.

Dear Gabby: My wife insists that I drive her mother to the senior center each day. How can I do this without losing my mind?

Perhaps you can find an old car that has a “rumble seat.”

Dear Gabby: I love popcorn, but my doctor has ordered me to eat no more than one bowl per day. That's not enough for me. Any suggestions?

Buy a larger bowl.

Dear Gabby: After years of back-breaking work, I purchased a coalmine and made a fortune. Now my wife wants a divorce. How much of my fortune do you think the judge will give her? What can I expect to keep?

If he/she is like most judges, she'll get the mine and you will get the shaft.

Dear Gabby: My wife says I'm two-faced. How should I respond?

Say to her: “Take a good look at me. If I had a second face, do you think I'd be wearing this one?”

Dear Gabby: I work with a guy who is a complete know-it-all jerk. What would you call such a person?

Boss.

Dear Gabby: When I met my future wife, I felt she was “Miss Right.” Now, three years later, I'm miserable. What could have gone wrong?

You did not realize her first name was “Always.”

Dear Gabby: My wife took me to a department store while she shopped for a new dress. After coming out of the dressing room, she asked if the outfit made her backside look big. Being honest, I answered in the affirmative. Now she won't talk to me. Where did I go wrong?

You went wrong by being truthful. If there is a Mrs. God, even He would fudge the truth in such a case. At times, honesty is not the best policy.

Dear Gabby: My wife was upset because she baked what she described as her worst bannana cream pie ever. Trying to help, I told her by far it was not her worst one. Then she smacked me in the face with the pie. Where did I go wrong?

You went wrong when you opened your pie-hole (mouth).

Dear Gabby: My friend told me that I'm better at bowling than I am at golf. I don't agree. What could be his reasoning?

Perhaps you lose fewer balls during a game of bowling than you do during a game of golf.

Dear Gabby: Do you believe in cow-tipping?

Absolutely. If she gives good service, give her a good tip. The same goes for pigs, chickens, goats, etc.

The Founding Fathers Speak

• “Keep your eyes wide open before marriage, half shut afterwards.” Benjamin Franklin.

 

• “To argue with a person who has renounced the use of reason is like administering medicine to the dead.” Thomas Paine.

 

• “When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” Thomas Jefferson.

 

• “Among the many objects to which a wise and free people find it necessary to direct their attention, that of providing for their safety seems to be first.” John Jay.

 

• “It is far better to be alone than to be in bad company.” George Washington.

 

* ”Give me liberty or give me death.” Patrick Henry.

 

• “The best form of government is that which is most likely to prevent the greatest sum of evil.” James Madison.

 

• “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” Benjamin Franklin.

 

• “It is true, however disgraceful it may be to human nature, that nations in general will make war whenever they have a prospect of getting anything by it.” John Jay.

 

• “We must support our rights or lose our character, and with it, perhaps, our liberties.” James Monroe.

 

• “You cannot undermine police authority and then complain about rising crime.” Thomas Paine.

 

• “I have concluded that one useless man is a disgrace, that two become a law firm, and that three or more become a congress.” John Adams.

 

• “If the freedom of speech is taken away, then dumb and silent one may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.” George Washington.

 

• “I think the first duty of society is justice.” Alexander Hamilton.

 

• “Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.” Benjamin Franklin.

 

• “The essence of government is power, and power, lodged as it must be in human hands, will ever be liable to abuse.” James Madison.

 

• “The truth is that all men having power ought to be mistrusted.” James Madison.

 

• “Why has government been instituted at all? Because the passions of men will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice, without constraint.” Alexander Hamilton.

 

• “Some people die at 25 and aren't buried until 75.” Benjamin Franklin.

 

• “Oppressors can tyrannize only when they achieve a standing army, an enslaved press, and a disarmed populace.” James Madison.

 

• “I hold the maxim no less applicable to public than to private affairs, that honesty is the best policy.” George Washington.

 

• “Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn.” Benjamin Franklin.

 

Dad Took Over My Hiding Place

I was not a hermit. We boys in the neighborhood regularly played softball, basketball, and football, and except during the worst days of winter, we rode our bicycles around town. However, with that being said, I needed time for myself (and I still do.) Like other boys, I liked sports, movies, and dances, but quiet time with a good book was also important.

The perfect hideout for me was the fruit cellar. Amid the smell of preserves, I would sit for hours on a delapidated chair, reading books I had borrowed from the library. Hardly anyone else came into the room, so it was a perfect “get away” spot. (During my “super hero phase, I hid my costume there.)

Out of necessity, I have owned a library card from an early age. On Sundays, we'd visit some very old people (Now they seem like kids) who, to me at the time, seemed extremely boring. Moreover, we sometimes stayed at those boring places for five or six hours at a time.

Therefore, I persuaded Mom to take me to the local library. The plan was to bring along a good book whenever we visited boring places, so that I would have something positive to do. The first book I took with me was Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

After socializing for a half hour or so, I went to the car and proceeded to read, believing I'd get a few chapters in before the “boss” decided to head home. Surprisingly, I read the book from cover to cover but still had to wait another hour before we left. After that, I brought along two books.

A year or so later, I was forced out of my fruit cellar reading center. Someone gave Dad a recipe for homemade beer, but evidently, they had listed too much sugar. Instead of beer, Dad had inadvertently invented his own rocket fuel.

One could be sleeping, watching TV, eating dinner, or reading the newspaper when a loud explosion, sounding much like a rocket attack, reverberated throughout the house. After such an attack, my secret reading room, from ceiling to floor, was covered with a strong-smelling brew. The beer was so potent that it ate the paint from the floor. Shards of glass were embedded in the walls and ceiling.

No longer could I use the room. During an attack, one could sustain serious injuries or perhaps could even be killed.

For four months, all but one of the beer bottles exploded. With a towel in hand, Dad retrieved the last bottle, bringing it upstairs to the kitchen. There, he opened it. A dark blue cloud escaped, along with a pungent odor. He gave me one sip. It burned my throat on the way down, and continued to do so while it sat gurgling in my stomach. “Mountain Dew” had nothing on this concoction.

The good news was that Dad never attempted to make another batch of home brew, so after the last bottle was consumed, I was able to move my reading quarters back to the fruit cellar. However, this arrangement didn't last long.

For his next adventure, Dad began making coleslaw. Each year, he would slice a few inches off my only good baseball bat before using it to smash the ingredients into a pulp. After five years of slaw-making, my bat was useful only for a two-year-old.

Unfortunately, Dad stored the big crocks of coleslaw in the fruit cellar. I tried reading in the cellar, but the smell was overwhelming. In desperation, I once tried nose plugs, but the smell was still suffocating, to say the least.

My next reading area was in the great outdoors. When good weather prevailed, I'd sit under a large tree in a wooded area behind our garage. The seating was uncomfortable, and at times the mosquitoes feasted upon me, but at least I didn't have to worry about flying shards of glass and stinky coleslaw.

On numerous occasions, our son heard the story about Grandpa's coleslaw operation.. When he was old enough to play baseball, he requested a glove and a bat. Specifically, he asked for a metal bat, just in case his grandfather decided to once again go into the coleslaw business.

The Most Humorous Presidents

One does not need a great sense of humor to be a great president. The “father” of our country, George Washington, evidently was no comedienne; neither were the two Roosevelts. However, a sense of humor makes a leader more interesting, and in some ways, seems to make him more relatable.

After long hours of research, I discovered that, in my opinion, Abraham Lincoln, Calvin Coolidge, John F. Kennedy, and Ronald Reagan should have their likenesses carved on the Mount Rushmore of Laughter.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN:

* During a debate, an opponent accused Lincoln of being two-faced. Here is Lincoln’s reply: “If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one?”

* “It has been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues.”

* “And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count; it’s the life in your years.”

* “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.”

* “Common-looking people are the best in the world. That is the reason the Lord makes so many of them.”

CALVIN COOLIDGE:

* A minister was invited to the Coolidge home for dinner before he was to preach at a revival meeting. The minister barely touched his food, explaining that abstaining helped his preaching. After the revival, Coolidge remarked, “He might as well have eaten.”

* Coolidge was a man of few words, thus earning himself the nickname, “Silent Cal.” One day, a lady approached him, explaining that she had a bet with her friends that she could get at least three words out of him. “You lose,” was his witty reply.

* President and Mrs. Coolidge were visiting an ultra-modern farm. Mrs. Coolidge, who took the tour of the farm first, was impressed by a rooster who never seemed to run out of energy as he performed his duties. “When Mr. Coolidge comes around, point out the stamina of this rooster to him,” she requested. Later, when the rooster was brought to his attention, Coolidge asked if it performed for one chicken or many chickens. When informed it was the latter, Coolidge requested that the guide inform his wife accordingly. Evidently, Coolidge was making the point that he, too, would be more productive if he were performing for several “chicks.”

JOHN f. KENNEDY:

* Many skeptics speculated that Kennedy’s dad “bought” the 1960 presidential election. Kennedy replied: “I just received the following wire from my generous daddy: ‘Dear Jack, don’t buy a single vote more than is necessary. I’ll be d***** if I’m going to pay for a landslide.’”

* Kennedy had this to say about being president: “The pay is good and I can walk to work.”

* “Forgive your enemies but never forget their names.”

* “Washington is a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm.”

* Kennedy was criticized for selecting his younger brother to be the Attorney General: “I see nothing wrong with giving Robert some legal experience as Attorney General before he goes out to practice law.”

RONALD REAGAN:

* “It isn’t that liberals are ignorant. It’s just that they know so many things that aren’t so.”

* “How do you tell a communist? Well, it’s someone who reads Marx and Lenin. And how do you tell an anti-communist? It’s someone who understands Marx and Lenin.”

* Reagan’s critics pictured him as a teetering old man who spent most of his time sleeping: “I have left orders to be awakened at any time in case of national emergency, even if I’m in a cabinet meeting.”

* “Thomas Jefferson once said, ‘We should never judge a president by his age, but only by his works.’ And ever since he told me that, I stopped worrying.”

* During the presidential campaign, the Democrats used Reagan’s age as a major issue. During a debate with Walter Mondale, Reagan turned the argument on its head: “I want you to know also I will not make age an issue of this campaign. I am not going to exploit for political purposes my opponent’s youth and inexperience.”

The Latest (Just for Laughs) "News"

 

• Scientists have discovered that if your parents had no children, the chances are overwhelming that you won't, either.

• Also, they've learned that craziness is inherited. You get it from your kids.

• In the latest favorability poll, Congress is rated just below Ricketts and diphtheria.

• Social scientists have made an important breakthrough: They state the chief cause of divorce is marriage.

• A recent poll indicated that over 85% of Americans confuse hemorrhoids with asteroids. Unfortunately, there are some things that Preparation H cannot prevent.

• Congress is considering a law to limit husbands to watching three football games per weekend. Some husbands agree to it if a twin bill is passed limiting wives to three hours of shopping per weekend.

• Even more husbands support a bill that would require wives to shop for ten hours every weekend, which would leave the guys with more valuable time for football.

• After years of study, experts have determined a sure-fire way to detect when politicians are lying: It's whenever they speak.

• Cutting back on “wine, women, and song” has not been found to lengthen one's life. It just feels that it does.

• In a recent poll, 92% of men would like to see the rumble seat reintroduced as standard equipment in automobiles. I had no idea 92% of married men have living mothers-in-law.

• In interviews, we learn that women often want a man who is a good provider. Also, she wants a man who is kind and romantic. Most of all, she wants a man who will help with the work around the house. The trick, of course, is to make certain these three men never meet.

• When interviewed, a 108-year-old lady explained the secret to a long life: “Keep breathing.”

• Doctors and dietitians recommend this rule of thumb for better health: If it tastes good, don't eat it.

• Despite arguments to the contrary, doctors have said several trips each evening to the refrigerator do not constitute a healthy exercise plan.

• It is said men are from Mars. A recent poll indicated that over two-thirds of women would like to send them back there.

• Another study indicates 95% of women believe men are overgrown kids. That's fine, but if my wife ever tells me that, I'll kick her out of my fort.

• Congress has passed a simplified tax return. On line one, you list your gross income. On line two, you list 25% of the gross amount. Add the two lines together and list the total on line three. Sign and return to the government with a check. Pretty simple.

• Studies indicate that women have reached true equality. They can be just as selfish and stupid as men can be.

***** And that's all the news that is unfit to print, but we did it anyway.

The Long-Ago Days of Summer

I know there is a specific date when summer officially begins, but for me, summer started the very moment the last day of school ended. I'll never forget the excitement of that last day in he classroom. At dismissal, there were wild cheers, whistling and shouting, and even a few dances of joy. And those were just from the teachers!

Back in those days, we had no computers and most of us had only three or four TV channels from which to choose. That didn't matter, for during most of the daylight hours and even for a while after sundown, we kids spent our time outdoors. Studies indicate some of today's youth have obesity problems, but “back in my day,” we stayed in shape by playing softball, touch football, and at night, under one big light hanging from a neighbor's garage, basketball. When we weren't doing those things, we would ride our bicycles or go to the YMCA.

With quite a bit of work, several boys in the neighborhood turned an overgrown piece of land into our own softball field. The nearest house was a good 350 feet away, so we believed there was little, if any, chance any damage would be done by a batted ball. However, there was a young man who was substantially bigger and stronger than any of the rest of us.

He hit the ball squarely with all his might. We stared in disbelief as the ball, like the Everready Bunny, just kept going and going. Its target was the house 350 feet from home plate. As the ball sailed over the roof, it knocked off a metal pipe. We briefly looked at each other in disbelief before sprinting to our respective homes.

For the first few summers, I had to either borrow someone's baseball glove or play barehanded. Mom, bless her heart, used several of her precious “Green Stamps” to get me a glove. Actually, that particular glove was useless; I played in the outfield, but she had bought a Del Crandell catcher's mitt. I thanked her and kept my mouth shut, realizing she had given up something for herself so that I could have that glove.

Not every day of summer was fun. As a matter of fact, for two weeks, we did boring work under a boiling sun. Dad was a perfectionist. His annual two-week vacation was no vacation. Instead of going to Disneyland or the Grand Canyon, we stayed home, chipping loose paint from the house before dobbing each nailhead with silver paint. Then we gave the exterior two coats of white paint. Finally, the trim color was applied twice. After that, the same procedure was followed in painting the garage.

I can remember only one true vacation. Some relatives who lived near Washington D. C., invited us to visit. They had a boy who was a giant. For some reason, he grabbed me around the waist, picked me up, and commenced to half-strangle me. It took quite a bit of coaxing by the adults to get him to release his death grip. That was terrifying; I think even math class would have been preferable to that.

One of the few negatives of summer was (and is) mowing. Being a perfectionist, Dad had specific mowing rules. First of all, when beginning a new row, one had to lap halfway over what had already been mowed. Supposedly, this was to avoid leaving tire tracks. Actually, this procedure left twice as many tracks, but wisely, I did as I was told. Another rule was that the person pushing the mower had to move slowly because you had to give the blade a chance to cut the grass. These days, I don't follow either of those edicts, and my grass looks fine. Go figure.

Until the junior high years arrived, I had little use for or interest in girls, but starting at about the age of thirteen, I began attending evening dances at the YMCA during the summer. That was a scary time, for I wanted to dance with some of the gals, but I was painfully shy and introverted.

One girl, evidently taking pity on me, asked me to dance. Afterwards, I thanked her, remarking, “I wanted to dance with you in the worst way.” While walking back to her seat, she replied: “Well, your mission was accomplished.”

The worst part of summer- and the most precious- was the last week before school began. One tried to crowd every remaining free minute with fun activities, knowing full well that strict teachers and, in some cases, boring classes were right around the corner.

Of course, even after we were once again back in the classroom, there was still hope for us kids. Christmas vacation was only four months away!