Here we go again. Friday morning. I personally believe they are running more than one Friday in a week, they come so quickly. Along with Friday has came the cold rain. "I" and I went to the door, stepped out on the porch. A gust of cold rain blew at us. She promptly went back into the house. I whispered loudly. "Don't you want to go to the bathroom?" She looked a me and burrowed into the pillows on the couch. I take that as a no. I can't say I blame her. So as she sleeps again, nestled warmly into piles of pillows. I once more sit here at the computer and grapple with words that seem so ever elusive.
I last posted on Monday. I wrote on Tuesday, I wrote Wednesday, I wrote Thursday but I didn't post them. I reread them and deleted. I could not bring any witty words to mind. They seemed preachy. Now you know how I love crawling up on my soap box, but I really have been trying lately not to do that so much. Its hard. I open my mouth or maybe its pose my fingers and the sage advice just pours out. My son just hates me to do that, preach that is.
So I have tried hard to come up with something interesting. I do not live a very exciting life. But I did go to the Polyester Place for lunch yesterday. Whenever I go and do something dumb I swear I won't go back. But the lure of food always wins in the end. Yesterday was Birthday lunch. Once a month they have a Birthday dinner for everyone that has a birthday that month. They also have cake. The old folks come out in force for that one. Old folks like cake. I like cake. So we know what catagory I'm in. One of those people. A member of the oldies.
I really tried to go and do nothing too dumb this time. Not trip or spill my food off my tray. They pile your food on a tray, just like in grade school. I have noticed more and more as I grow older how people seem to treat us older folks like we are all ten. I may be wrinkled but quite honestly I feel like I am still very sharp. There may be those who would differ with me. But I am not too concerned about their opinion.
When Joan and I was there a couple of months ago we sat at a table with a woman who had grew up around Ninth Street. We mentioned names of some of those kids that lived in that neighborhood. We knew many of the same people, but I did not know her. Do you remember Jerry Colburn," she asked? Oh yes I remembered him He was quite older but even as a twelve year old I thought he was soooo cute. The lady pointed at a table across the room. That's him over there," she said. I looked quickly, expecting to see the hunk I remembered from yester years. I saw a little old white haired man with a ball cap. "This was Jerry Colburn?" Good grief what had happened to him?
I told my sister about it. She knew him. "Did you go say hello and tell him you were a Munch?" she asked. "No," I said. "I would have felt goofy. He wouldn't remember me. I was too young."
Yesterday we sat at lunch. I saw the table where he had sat before. There was a grey haired man with a ball cap. I do not see well. The light was streaming in. I could not see his face. But surely I thought this was Jerry Colburn. My sister had so wanted me to say hi and mention we were the Munch's.
His table started for the line. I leaned forward in my chair. "Excuse me," I said softly. "Aren't you Jerry Colburn?" His wife shot daggers at me across the room. He stepped back, "No," he said quickly. "My name is Spiva." He hurried away.
Through lunch the occupants of the table nodded my way as they talked furiously. The bleached blond lady who stumbles around the lunch room had accosted this poor Spiva man. The same lady who dribbled taco sauce all over the floor a few weeks ago. I hate them damn trays.
I told my sister it was her fault. She denied being the cause of me doing something dumb. Danged old Jerry Colburn anyway. I really didn't want to speak to him. It was only for my sister.
I'm standing here watching how the flashing red light sends erie movement against the sky. I'm thinking I might give up The Polyester Place. I don't seem to make too good of impression whenever I go. But gee it only costs three dollars. I think of Jerry Colburn again and what he use to look like. Dang getting older seems to be hard on the looks. I start singing, "Hey good looking." I'm on my way. I'm outta here.
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