When I asked daughter Susan if I may post the following epic tale, she declared that anyone who IS anyone would want to be familiar with her brilliant saga. Here is what she sent out to friends.
(I’d scanned the original, but shall spare you the difficulties of reading same.)
‘So, my mom is going through some old files of hers and is finding all kinds of detritus from the distant past of our lives. One item she unearthed is a story which I must have written when I was extremely young, maybe around seven years old, judging by the spelling. My conclusion after reading this epic tale of heroism and romance: My mother was clearly putting LSD in my Cheerios! How else does a child come up with a story like this one, called, “The Pickle and the Stick”:
(Original spelling preserved)
Once thare was a pickle. It was locked up in a jar. Thare was a stick. One day the jar with the pickle fell out of a bag. the stick had gest left tree. The stick saw the pickles helplessa nd stranded; He opend the jar. all the pickles wher sour-harted all but one. she was a vary nice kind harted one. she asked the stick to please help her out. The stick did as she pleased (the pickle) The pickle said she would repay his kindness some how. The stick who was very polite said, “how nice of you.” Back at the jar the pickles had bad luck. a boy kicked them into the gutter and a car ran over them. that was the end, at least of them. the stick just then was picked up by a boy. He was going to brake Sirr stick in half! The pickle took a big, big breth and just in time FOOOOOOOOOOOO! Out came a tarabell noise. The pickle saved his life. They got marieyed and lived happily ever after.
The attached drawing is something I threw together with some help from the internet, inspired by reading this story. No, I am not currently on acid!’
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We shared a love of film and theatre
COVID:19 or no, If I don’t continue my dally walks these old bones of mine may not want to go anywhere, so I’m walking each day — totally on my own. Those who care about me kept reminding me how old I am and that I must take extra care out there, so I do.
in the sun on a second floor balcony. He waved down to me and said hello. I asked if he was staying in like me. He was. We ended up chatting, he sitting on his balcony above and me sitting on my walker below on the sidewalk.
If things had been reversed, I would say it was like the tragic story of Romeo and Juliet. And if I told you we made each other laugh, became fast friends, exchanged phone numbers and now talk endlessly so that’s why my phone is usually busy, and have decided we really like each other, have much in common and shall spend oodles of time with each other after this is over, it would be a lovely end to the story. Right? Unfortunately, it would also be a big fat lie. That’s not how it ended.
True, we really did have an enjoyable chat, that part is actually true. However without breakfasts every day at my favorite cafe, many lunches with friends, exercise classes to take, visits to the library, and everything else I do in my ordinary life, things are more leisurely right now and I don’t get out at the same time each day. Perhaps the lack of a new COVID:19 romance in my life is my own fault. Poor ‘Romeo’ just doesn’t know when I’ll show up. This is, indeed, a tragedy!
like Susan. Horses scared me. They’re really, really BIG! But Susan recently got Cisco. He is gorgeous and very different. He’s calm and exceptionally loving. Miracles never cease… Can you believe??? I fell in love with him.
Nature sometimes does get things right, but things can go awry. It isn’t nature’s fault. Usually man screws it up — and things have gone very wrong when it comes to human procreation.
What to do? As I see it, if having sex weren’t so darned pleasurable, there wouldn’t be so many babies and that might help. How many woman would opt to go through the pain and discomfort of childbirth and those endless, sleepless nights afterwards without the joys of sex?
View from Over the Hill 