By G. E. Shuman
It has been on my mind lately that we don’t take good enough care of ourselves. Okay, maybe the ‘we’ in that first sentence should be an ‘I’, and the ‘ourselves’ should be a ‘myself’. I’m not sure about those points, so forgive me if I take the liberty of speaking for you too, as that is something I just might do here.
Lately, things have been happening to me, and to some members of my extended family and friends. (I have noticed recently that those people are actually beginning to age, and I feel bad for them.) The things which have been happening to me lately are happening to my body. I think that it, (my body) really hates me. It, at the very least, dislikes me, because it keeps coming up with ways to annoy me. My body seems to be rebelling. (Notice that I said rebelling, not revolting, as that word can mean more than one thing.) The truth is that I was recently diagnosed with having a very aggravating and tedious, although common, physical condition, which, so far, is at least number three on my list of aggravating and tedious common conditions. (I refuse to use the word ‘disease’. That term sounds like something is rotting, and, although I am older today than I was yesterday, I am not rotting, yet.)
Fortunately for me, my brand new ‘condition’ is much less serious than ones many other people contend with. This is not because I am ‘good’; but more likely because I am a chicken about some things and not as adventurous as some people. I have taken relatively few health risks in my lifetime, and have been in no serious accidents. Risk-taking is not really in my cowardly genetic makeup, but I guess I have taken a few. I suppose that marriage is one risk. That one has worked out well, so far, although perhaps better for me than for my wife. But it’s only been 39 yrs, and you never know. I have also braved a few business risks, but those have worked out too, although I came close to losing everything… that one time. I don’t take business risks anymore, or get married anymore. My wife, hopefully, appreciates both of those facts.
I really wish that people would be careful. It has been said that 99 percent of the bad things we worry about happening never do, (happen.) I believe that at least half of that remaining one percent of bad things are things that we bring upon ourselves. Personally, because of the aforementioned diagnosis and some renewed attempt at common sense, I have recently made a few minor lifestyle changes. As I said, I have never had a long list of risky behaviors to attempt to quit, so the doctors have assigned one to me, in deciding to take the act of eating away from me, or at least the eating of things that seem worth eating. No one understands why I believe that potato chips are the perfect food, no matter how much I explain it. You see, there is no denying that potatoes are popular and healthy vegetables which are full of vitamins. To make chips, they fry the potatoes in fat, which must contain protein and needed calories, and then they are covered in salt, which is a vital mineral. Need I say more? Still, I am too fat, no matter how many bags of chips I have eaten.
You know, my friends, we are already nearly one twelfth of the way through this new year. I would ask you, before more time passes, to determine to start being good to your body, and to nurture your spirit. (Although I hate that word ‘nurture’ and will tell you why some other time.) In short, please begin taking care.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
The Murderer In The Driveway
By G. E. Shuman
Words are funny things. They really are, and I believe this is especially so in the English language. Words mean different things to different people, and can easily be misused, misheard, misinterpreted, or misread. Some of this misinformation is probably intentional. If you are a politician there is no ‘probably’ about that. Sadly, when listening to a politician you have to weigh whether or not that person’s words are true and accurate. It goes the same for listening to children, except with kids you don’t have to worry about the truthful part. Kids may mix a word up here and there, but they tell it like it is. In fact, kids can be painfully honest, like the time when a small Sunday School child, whom I thought was taking in my every word, as she stared at me, suddenly raised her hand and asked me why I had hair in my nose.
I would like you to ‘listen’ to a short, recent, truthful conversation in the car, between my daughter Cathy, and her three year old daughter, Ayvah. Crime, truly, is all around us, as recently observed by this beautiful and brilliant three year old granddaughter of mine, in that conversation with her mom. Here‘s the way the conversation went, as Cathy related it to me.
Cathy: “So, here’s the story. We were riding in the car and Ayvah said to me: ‘There was a man in the driveway.’ I asked her who he was, and she said, ‘He was a murderer!’ I then asked her what he was doing, and she said that he was over near the cars and the house. I also asked her how she knew he was a murderer. She said: ‘Because he didn’t have a car, and he had on a hat and had one tool.’ I asked what kind of hat he had, and Ayvah then said: ‘a soft hat’ (It was about seven degrees out.)”
Cathy continued: “I then asked Ayvah if she had told her dad, and she said ‘No.’ She said her dad was upstairs, and she was watching the man out the window. I paused, and then I asked her what she meant by a ‘murderer.’“
Ayvah: “You know, the guys who come if your power goes out, to fix it and stuff.”
Cathy: “I said, ‘Oh, a METER READER!’”
Ayvah: “Yeah… he was checking the murder.”
Your English is perfect, Ayvah. Energy costs are a killer.
Love, Grampy
Words are funny things. They really are, and I believe this is especially so in the English language. Words mean different things to different people, and can easily be misused, misheard, misinterpreted, or misread. Some of this misinformation is probably intentional. If you are a politician there is no ‘probably’ about that. Sadly, when listening to a politician you have to weigh whether or not that person’s words are true and accurate. It goes the same for listening to children, except with kids you don’t have to worry about the truthful part. Kids may mix a word up here and there, but they tell it like it is. In fact, kids can be painfully honest, like the time when a small Sunday School child, whom I thought was taking in my every word, as she stared at me, suddenly raised her hand and asked me why I had hair in my nose.
I would like you to ‘listen’ to a short, recent, truthful conversation in the car, between my daughter Cathy, and her three year old daughter, Ayvah. Crime, truly, is all around us, as recently observed by this beautiful and brilliant three year old granddaughter of mine, in that conversation with her mom. Here‘s the way the conversation went, as Cathy related it to me.
Cathy: “So, here’s the story. We were riding in the car and Ayvah said to me: ‘There was a man in the driveway.’ I asked her who he was, and she said, ‘He was a murderer!’ I then asked her what he was doing, and she said that he was over near the cars and the house. I also asked her how she knew he was a murderer. She said: ‘Because he didn’t have a car, and he had on a hat and had one tool.’ I asked what kind of hat he had, and Ayvah then said: ‘a soft hat’ (It was about seven degrees out.)”
Cathy continued: “I then asked Ayvah if she had told her dad, and she said ‘No.’ She said her dad was upstairs, and she was watching the man out the window. I paused, and then I asked her what she meant by a ‘murderer.’“
Ayvah: “You know, the guys who come if your power goes out, to fix it and stuff.”
Cathy: “I said, ‘Oh, a METER READER!’”
Ayvah: “Yeah… he was checking the murder.”
Your English is perfect, Ayvah. Energy costs are a killer.
Love, Grampy
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