Not sure what brought it up, but Honey and I were reminiscing about Alan Sherman last night. For those too young to remember, Sherman, who died in 1973, was the Weird Al Yankovic of his generation.
Probably his most successful song was “Hello, Mudda” about a kid away at summer camp for the first time, but my personal favorite was always this one:
Note – Due to a licensing issue, the song may not open immediately. Just click the notice that comes up to watch it on YouTube.
We recently added a new member to the Addicted to Limericks group on Facebook. Her name – or at least her nom de plume - is RoZita Berry, and she is very talented with a wicked sense of humor.
Here is a non-Limerick poem she posted this past weekend:
The Ballad of Mr. Throgmorton
Mr. Throgmorton was a mean old man
who lived at the end of my street
he hated flowers and butterflies and birds
and anything pretty or sweet.
Carolers he would kick off his front stoop:
"Stop making that infernal racket!"
At Halloween we kids would t.p. his yard
and throw eggs at his window to crack it.
Mrs. Delaney, his neighbor next door,
took pity upon this old fart
She was certain that some fine day
she could soften his stony old heart.
One spring day to the hospital he went
for to cure his sleeping apnea
Mrs. Delaney looked at his bare front yard
saying, "I've a wonderful idea!"
And she transplanted flowers from her own garden
into old Throgmorton's lawn
and soon, lo, the other neighbors joined with her
a strange sight to look upon!
And when he came home, she awaited him there
with cookies and pastries and pies
and lilies and tulips, petunias and pansies
drawing birds, bees and butterflies!
"What is the meaning of this?" he roared
as he nearly fell down on his kiester
"What's all this crap? Does this yard of mine
look like some kinda basket for Easter?"
And taking his cane, he thrashed all around
and smashed every pie and cake
then thwapped at each sapling, flower and bush
Mrs. D. realized her mistake!
A week or so later, I rode by on my bike
and noticed a wondrous smell;
it came from Mr. Throgmorton's back yard
something cooking, far as I could tell.
The fence 'round the backyard was too high for me
so I climbed up into a tree
and saw him down there at an outdoor grill
and I couldn't believe it was he!
He was stirring at something in a big pot
over a low-burning flame
and it smelled delicious, I had to admit
and my hunger I couldn't quite tame.
Then all of a sudden he looked up
and caught sight of me up on that limb;
"Hey boy! Come down and have supper with me!"
he exclaimed...this couldn't be him!
Yet there he was smiling, this crazy old man
who'd so trashed his welcome-home party;
Inviting me now to dinner with him
and grinning so friendly and hearty?
Well, I told myself to get out of there quick
what if he was some kind of perv?
But my stomach growled like an angry pit bull
as I tried to work up my nerve.
Then suddenly the branch on which I was crouched
gave way beneath all my weight
and first thing you know there I was in his yard
I didn't even have to use the gate!
And first thing you know I was seated right there
at his back yard picnic table
Where he'd placed a big wooden bowl before me
which he filled with a large wooden ladle.
It was some sort of stew, beef I supposed
with onions, potatoes and rice
and peppers and carrots, okra and corn
hot and spicy--it sure tasted nice!
"I'm sorry for all the bad things I did,"
I said as I glanced at the pot.
"Boys will be boys," he replied with a grin,
"I was one once, believe it or not."
I wondered what brought about his change of heart
and thought, "Maybe miracles are true!"
as he brought out a fine-looking loaf of white bread
and dished me up some more stew.
Then he broke out a lovely big chocolate cake
with white icing with butterfly design.
"I baked this myself!" he beamed as he cut it
and a shiver ran over my spine.
"Mrs. Delaney didn't make it?" I said,
and sadly he shook his head;
"She's moved away, lad, I fear; I've not seen her
for many a morning," he said.
Weeks went by with no sign of her
which I thought was a terrible shame.
Some spoke of foul play, but I doubted that;
who'd waste such a nice old dame?
Yet her whereabouts are a mystery still
no one seems to know what to do;
and I think of her often, but wonder also
what sort of meat *was* in that stew?
When I was a kid, several years before we moved to Liverpool, our family had a weekend place on Chocolate Bayou. Our good friends, the Jahnke family, also had a place there, and Val, Donnie, my sister Karen and I were on or in the water constantly.
While I never personally saw an alligator in Chocolate Bayou, there were always rumors, and it looked like ideal gator habitat.
Asked about letting her sons swim there, Martha Jahnke, who had grown up in Florida, said that she preferred swimming in waters where she knew there were gators – because she didn’t have to worry about snakes.
That’s New Caney wrecker driver “Slinky” Knox helping Montgomery County constables remove an eight foot gator from the San Jacinto River bridge on Hwy 242. The picture came from one of a dozen or more stories about alligators in the area this summer. Just last week, a teenager was attacked by a gator while swimming in a park in Chambers County, and his dad was bitten by the same gator when he jumped in to save him. Both are still in the hospital.
You would think that the word would have gotten around, but in spite of signs posted at Burkhart’s Marina in Orange,
Not to speak ill of the dead, but a look at his picture makes me think that Darwin’s Law was also a factor.
My eye is continuing to improve – not quite back to normal, but getting there.
I did encounter one problem, and it has me seeing red.
The doctor had given me a prescription for eye drops that contain both an antibiotic and a steroid. When I called the pharmacy to see if they were ready, I was told that Medicare would not cover them and the out-of-pocket cost if I chose to buy them anyway would be $440!
I called the Doctor’s office and they prescribed an alternative – another brand of eye drop that also contained an antibiotic and a steroid – that I was able to get for $38.
We pay what seems to be an enormous amount for our Medicare Part D coverage, so I’m more than a little ticked off that they wouldn’t cover what the doctor prescribed. And, I guess that I’m a little disappointed in the doctor for not knowing or caring what Medicare will cover.
That is not what really put me over the edge.
While on line looking for possible alternatives, I learned that the same $440 drops Medicare wouldn’t cover, probably in the same package, were available from a veterinary supply house for $18.89!
It hurt like blue blazes, it just wouldn’t quit, and it caused tears by the gallon to pour down my face. After carefully cleaning the eye, we finally put a patch over it and taped it shut for the rest of the day. When I removed the patch about eight hours later, it felt OK – I thought everything was fine.
Then, the day before yesterday, it came back.
I was able to get an emergency appointment with an ophthalmologist yesterday afternoon. He told me I was suffering from meibomian gland blepharitis. That’s a multisyllabic Latin term designed to make the doctor sound smarter than the patient. It describes a symptom, not a disease. Basically it just means that the oil glands in your eyelashes aren’t working quite right, and you’re building up a lot of crud on your eyelids.
The most common causes are contaminated eye makeup (don’t use any) and dirty contact lenses (don’t wear them) but in my case the doctor said my problem was due to allergies.
He prescribed some eye drops that contain a steroid, and a foam to use to scrub the excess crap from my eyelids. The drops helped almost immediately. I’m not back to normal, but it’s a lot better.
When we first moved here, the Boggy Thicket was surrounded by woods that extended for several miles in all directions. Some of that land has been converted into subdivisions, but a lot of it is still untouched, so you might think that we would see a lot of deer.
We don’t.
We have seen quite a few over the years, but not nearly as often as you might expect, so it has been a pleasant surprise to see them this summer.
Actually, I think we are only seeing the same one, a doe, several times a week.
She crosses the road just north of us and travels through the Graff’s front yard to the pond in their back yard. From there, she cuts across our woods and crosses the road to Ray Winkler's place, where she disappears. Ray’s place used to be a nursery, but much of it has reverted to nature. It’s covered with willow trees and undergrowth so thick that the doe could be invisible three feet inside the fence.
I don’t know where she’s coming from, or where she is headed, but the thing that really intrigues me is how she gets back. Since spring, we have seen her make that trip two or three times a week, but we have only seen her headed south.
