City Council Meeting

I was listening to a city council meeting on the radio this morning, and the discussion was  about  increased funding for health services in Dallas.  An advocate for more funding was speaking to the council, and asked “Have you ever went to the doctor and had him  say ‘I cain’t he’p you no more.’”  If a doctor expressed things that way to me I might be looking for a new physician. 

A Barnes and Noble Morning

Three days ago I was browsing in the humor section at our local Barnes and Noble bookstore.   I came across a book with an intriguing title, something like Farts: A Spotter’s Guide.  Mildly bemused,  I picked up the book and absently pressed the number 1 on a plastic box attached to the book (there were nine buttons, identified by number).  Now Barnes and Noble is pretty quiet most of the time, sort of a library-like environment.  I soon learned that the buttons represented various types of gas expellations, grouped into categories.  Option 1 must have been the loudest and longest, because when it began to sound, it went on for what seemed like an eternity.  Fortunately the bookstore was not crowded this particular morning, but a middle-aged couple across the shoulder-high shelves  looked up in surprise when the sound began, then walked away, not quickly but deliberately.  I wanted to hold up the book and say something like  “Pretty funny, huh?” but thought it too awkward.  I managed to get away from the area unnoticed  (I think)  before the children’s story time began. 

High School Reunion

Over the past weekend I attended a 50th high school reunion.  Actually it was not my reunion, but the class one year before (same high school).  I went as a warm-up for my own reunion next year.  In the afternoon we had a tour of the high school, led by the principal, who barely looked old enough to drive.  I remember our stern old principal  looked like Abraham Lincoln, tall, lanky, and humorless.  The school looked pretty much the same, but it sure seemed smaller than I remember it.  My old home room looked absolutely tiny.  I went with another chum from my same class in high school, and he happened to be driving his DAUGHTER’S Maserati.  The car attracted quite a bit of attention from the current students, who were milling around the whole time we were on tour.   One of the big differences between then and now is that now the inner campus is behind iron gates, I guess to prevent vandalism.   Also, parking is impossible without a permit.  In our day we could drive up right to the building and always find a space.  We met in the auditorium to begin the orientation, and I noticed that the seats must have been replaced with smaller ones, since they were much more snug than I remember them.  At night we had a reception at a restaurant  in Ridglea on the patio.  Everyone had name tags with a picture unless he or she was a spouse or crasher, as we were.  People walked around all evening looking at name tags, and usually ignored those with just names and no pictures.  I saw one “kid” I remember as a husky football player (a center), who wore overalls this particular  evening and was all bent over with a cane.  Not much of a threat any more.  It seemed that a lot of the class had memory problems.  I was talking with a couple of them  about the old days at the clubs on the Jacksboro Highway.  One of them kept calling it the Jacksonville Highway.  I also met another woman from my class of 1960 who happened to be married to a member of this class of 1959.  She did not seem to remember me, even though we were in the same home room for three years.  I think her memory was failing, because she mentioned that several people were in our home room that I knew were not.  I chose not to argue the point, however, since she had pretty much lost her looks and was not that pleasant to chat with anyway.  After about an hour and a half, we left.  As I looked back at the group, I felt that I was leaving some kind of lobby party at a retirement home.