Bud’s the first of our little group to retire. Worked for Gagne’s & Sons Heating and Cooling for what? Thirty plus years, I guess. That’s dirty work, repairing furnaces and the like. Plus, you get called out at all hours, day and night. Weekends, too, don’t matter the weather. And unless you’re doing an annual cleaning, the people you’re dealing with are usually real upset. I mean, it’s ten degrees out, and no heat. They’re all bundled up, seeing their breath inside the house, and Bud’s gotta be the one who tells ‘em their furnace is shot. No fun. Once he hit sixty-five, Bud was outta there. When he started talking about retiring, I says …

Saturday, I’m on my way home from my weekly appointment with Patsy down to Hair Affair, when on a whim, I turn into the Agway parking lot. Don’t know why, because I’d planned on going straight home to clean the house. It just kind of happened. Generally, Charlie’s the one who shops at the Agway. Me, not so much. But there I was. So, I go inside thinking, Maybe I can find another hanging plant for the deck. Well, no sooner do I get in the door, when who do I see? Debbie Plourde. I hadn’t seen Debbie since Washington crossed the Delaware. She was a year behind me in school. Debbie left Mahoosuc Mills …

I was looking through old photos, and I found this one of me getting ready to celebrate my fourth birthday. Looks like quite a party, huh? There are little cartoon characters on the tablecloth and the ever popular pointy hats. And I’m dressed to the nines, of course. Some things never change. I still like dressing up, but I’ve become more of a tiara and boa kind a gal. And I like celebrating my birthday the entire month of May. One day’s just not enough! Besides, I gotta pace myself. Now me and my friends Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot and Shirley (aka, the Women Who Run With the Moose) get together once a week for …

Here’s a story of misspent youth, courtesy of Charlie. Physics 101 We saw it all happen, my friend Bud and me From the booth where we sat at the ol’ Busy Bee Waiting we were, for the rest of the boys We heard, of a sudden, this terrible noise Almost as if we were hearing a fight This pickup pulled up to our one traffic light With rock music blarin’, speakers all blown And some jackass yellin’ he’s “bad to the bone” Bangin’ the beat on the side of his door Then hootin’ and hollerin’, yellin’ some more “Who is this clown?” says Bud with a frown The notorious Whitey Junior By that I mean …