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Friday, September 9, 2011

A Thought or Two on a Late Friday Evening at Camp.

Hello Troops, and you to Jon (Jon is waiting for this post as he chaperones on the Voyager's Bridge with Abram).

The picture above is funny in several ways. It shows our helpless condition as infants and reminds us of what lies ahead if we live long enough. I see myself standing near the stop light outside Orem's Costco a few decades from now, derelict, unshaven, unkempt, nearly toothless, still wearing my once blue Space Center shirt - heavily stained with large white blotches testifying to my frequent memory lapses concerning bleach and colors. In my shaking hands I hold a cardboard sign reading "Can't speak, can't walk, no teeth, no job, full diaper. God Bless".

I see you before you see me. Our eyes meet. You look confused, wondering if I'm really the person you think I am. You drive up and stop at the red light.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," you mutter in disbelief to your firstborn beside you. "He was something else in his day. Now look at him."

"Gross," he replies and returns to his texting.

You roll down your window and wave me over. I struggle to my feet. You notice my black tennis shoes, split open at the toes. I approach as you search your wallet for spare change. You wonder if I'll spend the money on food or liquid comfort. You take out a $5, thinking its enough to purchase a candy bar, but not enough for something refreshing at the PG pool hall. Seeing the $5.00 bill in your hand adds pep to my step. I reach your window and smelling distance. Your firstborn pulls the collar of his t-shirt up over his nose to block the smell of damp rot.

"Mr. Williamson, how are you?" you hope my answer short, considering the light might change any moment. I look confused. I'm searching my memory.

"No ma'am. You got Tex," I reply. I take the money from your outstretched hand. "This is real American money?" I ask holding it up to the light to see the watermark and security band. "It ain't that phony Canadian stuff?"

"Can we go? I'm going to ralph!" your child inserts into the dialog. The light changes and we say our farewells. You to your life and me to the company of senility.

Yes, that's what crossed my mind when I saw that picture above. Life is one great cycle.

Speaking of old age......... How many times have you heard someone of advanced years say "Back in my day?" Well,

Something else from the Imaginarium, a triangle diagram worthy of a passing glance. I tried and tried to prove it more wrong than right but couldn't. Of course that means only one thing - emotional stability and beauty! Right?

I used to stststststst stutter as a child. Certain words sent me into a tongue spasm. The worst was "Victor". Yep, anytime I had to say my name I'd barely get through the first consonant.

They had me in speech therapy in first grade to help with the stuttering and helping me pronounce the letter "r". I spoke my "r" as "w".

And finally, a new sign for the Space Center. Please be kind enough to comply. Those of you who use the Force on those of us born lacking any connection to the supernatural is down right inconsiderate and, frankly rude.

Have a great night.

Mr. W.
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