Trip to a local bookstore–reading material for our upcoming flight to Australia.

Lunch date, a place recommended by friends. Service was good, food was mediocre, and too pricey. Recommendations didn’t always pan out.

Regular oil and filter changes at 6,000 mile intervals were expected.  Other maintenance items had no set timetable.

Why was it that service advisors at local automobile service departments made recommendations whether they were needed or not?

Answer:  To make profits for the dealership.  My advisor, recently recommended a wheel alignment.  There were no signs/symptoms of misalignment–uneven tire wear, cupping, steering wheel shake.

Different brand of car, different dealership, a few years earlier, had the same policy.  I objected to their alignment suggestion–whether it was needed or not.

So what if my vehicle had 30,000 miles on the odometer?  Mileage didn’t directly cause misalignment–or alignment.

I’ll do what was done before–go to an independent repair shop that specialized in brakes and alignments.  If no alignment is needed, then I’ll only be charged for an inspection.

Perceptions, Delusions

What do we really know about those around us?


Rain fell soft and silky.  How could she have lost touch with the man she almost married?

It hadn’t been Melvyn’s department store for forty years.  Fringed in yellow pollen, puddles became crime scene outlines.  Superstition prevailed.  They were to be avoided at all costs.

Deny perception or declare delusion?  She had no idea where this conversation was going.

Patchwork farms gave way to suburbia.  Too bad families, friends only got together at funerals.

Had he suffered in the last days?  Too late and inappropriate to ask.

Always affable.  Willing to share personal stories or anecdotes–before getting down to business.

It would be crass to call Harold a hero.  Hero was such an overused word.  Clients felt they were in good hands.  Harold was a businessman first–then a friend.

Harold’s health battles were kept secret.  No one, except a few close friends, knew till the very last day.  Harold’s death came as a complete shock.

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Risky Business

It was a good thing parents never knew the risky things their offspring did growing up. Why did kids do such things? Because kids were kids. Part of being a kid was being impulsive.  The rest, because of peer pressure.

Bicycles ridden across a frozen pond. Sled-riding down a hill and across the same pond. The sled picked up speed on the ice. No thought given to breaking through the ice.

Wild persimmon trees grew everywhere. Ripe persimmons were sweet. Green ones were sour, bitter, and puckered your mouth.  The unsuspecting, double-dog dared to taste, just one.

Green persimmons were instruments of torture, when in the hands of upper classmen.  Why had God made such terrible tasting fruit?  Why were older kids so mean?

Hazing of incoming freshmen wasn’t discouraged, when perhaps it should have been.  Later in college, hazing, once again reared its ugly head.  Pushing pennies with noses across concrete sidewalks was downright cruel.

Coming soon–the Super Snow Moon!  Touted as the biggest, brightest of 2019.  Watch for it, there’s absolutely no risk involved.  Unless you’re a trespasser, on private property, hiding behind a persimmon tree.

Can’t Complain

Can’t think of anything, about which to write. Can’t complain though, without joining ranks of other complainers.


Each new day dawns, with limitless complaint opportunities.

From mountaintops to deep valleys, complaints ring out.

Everybody complains about everything.  Every complainer’s complaints are worse, more important, than those of other complainers.

Each complainer, complaining, expects to be given full attention by everyone else.  Simultaneous complaints from potential listeners, pass by–cancel each other out.

Loud complaining doesn’t guarantee complaints will be heard.  Loud complaints are just as likely to be ignored.  Complainers don’t like their complaints to be ignored; which leads to more complaints.

Too many complaints, lead to clutter.  Cluttered sidewalks, front lawns, doorsteps and lives.  Nobody likes to walk through clutter–still more complaints.  Like snowflakes in a blizzard, complaints fall, obliterating blue sky.

What about strong, silent types, that never complained?  How could non-complainers possibly be normal–since they never complained?

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Before These Bananas Go Bad–Take One

Still more–banana bandanas, panda bananas (did pandas even like them?), Who knew? Sayonara bananas, this banana thing is through.


Banana boats

Banana bread

Banana splits

Banana republics

Top bananas

Banana pajamas

Banana dreams

Banana traumas

Banana screams

Banana dramas

More bananas–manana

Don’t get your bananas

In a bunch–banana breath

That could mean banana death


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How To Not Give Directions

Wrong ways to give directions.


  • Does anyone really know where they’re going?
  • It’s not worth your trouble.
  • Nobody goes there anymore.
  • Boy, are you lost.
  • Bet you get lost a lot
  • Where were you last lost?
  • Why ask me?  I’m not lost.
  • Not from around here are you?
  • Don’t blame me if you’re disappointed when you get there.
  • There are several ways to get there–most of them wrong.
  • Yes, go east on RT 17, which used to be called Prospect Avenue, but isn’t anymore.
  • If you want to get there faster, you could turn down the alleyway behind Taylor’s Pharmacy–it’s one-way, so be sure to go the right way.

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