Thursday, July 27, 2017


Saturday, August 15, 2015


When I was a kid, I lived for summer. Couldn't get enough of those warm, languid days filled with fun in the sun.

Now that I'm a big kid, nothing has changed. I still wait with great anticipation for the sultry, summer days I love.

I still lap up every delicious moment of summer, wishing it would last all year.

I like the fact that I live in Florida where we have a joke about our four seasons: Feels like Summer, Almost Summer, Steamy Summer and Still Summer.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

A bride of two weeks sends a group email thanking all who attended her wedding and for giving her and her new husband gifts that averaged $200 each. A high school student flips a "thanks a lot" to her teacher who just wrote her a two-page letter of recommendation. Then she scoots down the hall to another teacher to get another letter. A graduating college student thanks no one for her monetary gifts and sends no notes, but when her guests leave her party, her mother says, "Thanks for coming."

To the bride, to the student, and to the graduate, I say, thanks for nothing.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

The year is 1945. We lived at 202 E. Hazard St., Summit Hill: At age 6, I quietly picked up our home phone and listened to the party-line conversation between my teenage neighbor and her boyfriend.

When she made some gooey, sappy and lovesick comment to him, I couldn't help myself and stifled a laugh.

"Bruce, GET OFF THE PHONE!!!" she ordered. "Yeah, you little creep," the boyfriend chimed in, "Get off the phone."

I did. Obviously, this was not the first time I had listened in. In retrospect, I believe this was my introduction into sex education.

Saturday, August 15, 2015


As you know I like to use this space to share some humor I received from friends.

The following was sent to me recently and I think you'll find it humorous.


One year, I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot as a Christmas gift. The next year, I didn't buy her a gift. When she asked me why, I replied, "Well, you still haven't used the gift I bought you last year!"

And that's how the fight started ...

Saturday, August 8, 2015

I waited long for this day. One and one-half years.

Yet it's a day nobody would want.

Here I am standing close to him, nearly within arm's reach.

But a district attorney is positioned between us and five sheriff deputies just a step away.

Convicted killer Anthony Heath is tall and lanky, round-shouldered with poor posture.

I'm surprised to see he's wearing a purple shirt, street clothes. His hands are shackled to his belt.

I glare at him. He looks back at me with vacuous eyes.

There's nothing there.

Saturday, August 8, 2015


The Wall Street Journal ran a recent story that tickled me.

Even the headline would get your attention: First date in a nursing home.

The articles went on to detail an innovative dating service at Hebrew Nursing Home in Riverdale, New York.

Residents in their 70s, 80s and even 90s are going on dates again. The nursing home provides opportunities for men and women to meet at the home's riverside café.

If they hit it off, they can arrange their own future outings.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Last year while visiting Becky and future son-in-law living in Mineral Wells, Texas, they took us to several different places to eat. So when we were visiting them last week, I told Becky I wanted to go back to a little gas station/convenience store, Tommy's, for their delicious crispitos.

Saturday, August 8, 2015


As they say, life just keeps rolling along.

This spring our oldest granddaughter got her driver's license. It seems like just yesterday I was pushing her on a swing, going for walks in a stroller and watching her learn how to ride her bike.

She is a smart girl and takes driving very seriously.

But this story is not about Maddie. It is about the car she is driving.

It is a four-door, dark cherry 1998 Honda Accord with miles galore on the odometer. Over the years the color has turned from cherry to eggplant/purple.

Saturday, August 1, 2015


It's only a medium-size cutting board but I can't find room for it as I walk through my kitchen trying to fit it into a cabinet. It doesn't fit anywhere that makes sense.

I use the board every day so it has to be handy. If only I had a convenient location where it would fit.

Once again I find myself thinking I need more room in my small kitchen. So I take an inventory of my limited space and try to figure out how to get more storage room.

Saturday, August 1, 2015


Too often we as parents find ourselves in overdrive when it comes to parenting our children, running a home and working a full-time job.

We are sleep deprived, overworked and feel under-appreciated.

We do a tightrope walk daily, finding our balance somewhere between the life we used to have and the life we have now.