People describe people by saying, “She didn’t suffer fools very well.” My wife fit that saying, but you could also add, “…or spendthrifts!” We started out poor and she didn’t want to go back even if it was romantic.
That didn’t bother me; I was traumatized by Valentine’s Day in elementary school. I don’t know about you, but we had to bring a homemade cardboard box like a mail box, set it on our desk, and at recess the teacher would distribute the valentines addressed to each student. The popular kids would bring mailboxes made from boxes that some food came in; many brought oatmeal boxes. I could have brought a matchbox! This was before the days when every student had to give a valentine to every other student. It was more of a popularity contest and I guess I wasn’t all that popular. One girl, the smallest, cutest, girl, who happened to be the school superintendent’s niece, always got the most valentines. As my children tell their new spouses when they look at old family pictures, I was the kid in the back row with the big ears. Ironically, she and I went together in 8th grade. She used to wear my basketball T-shirt, that hung down almost to her ankles, with pride.
I write this column aimed mostly at older widowed people. There are younger widowed people too. Diseases are not limited to us “Senior Citizens,” you know. Cancer is an equal opportunity killer! It doesn’t care if you are old or young; white, black, or brown; cute or common; smart or not so smart; rich or poor; it will take anyone’s loved one at any time. The pain is just as great if you’re 35 or 85 when you lose a mate. What in the world would I have done if I had been widowed at age 40 instead of 80? Now, I have time to fool around in the kitchen and the house and no one gets hurt except me once in a while. What if I had five kids going along with me on this journey? The point is, I guess, when I talk about being widowed, I’m talking about everyone, no matter what age; we’re all in this together you know.
Oh, I used the seam tape. It worked! Now I’m out of the woods on that big blunder. I mean I wouldn’t have looked too cool walking around in jeans with cuffs rolled up six inches. That was OK when I was 16 and in 10th grade, but now I might stick my cane in the cuff and trip myself. At my age I don’t want to fall; I might not be able to get up as the commercial says.
Think Spring! (Do it again. We didn’t try hard enough last time.)
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