Last week, I shared Charlie’s poem about our good neighbor, Gus, who was kind enough to loan Charlie his mower while ours was in the shop. The adventure continued when the part came in, but Agway didn’t have time to install it. They figured they wouldn’t get to our mower for at least a few more weeks, so Charlie thought maybe he could install it himself. They gave him a demonstration on how to do it and everything. But you know what? Charlie’s getting wise in his old age. I’ll let him tell you about it.  Keep My Name on Your List  It’s height of the season, you know how it’s goin’: About every week, …

There’s a lot I love about living in a small town like the feeling of community, folks greeting you by name at the post office or down to the transfer station, everyone knowing your business. Well that last one, not so much. We’ve lived on our street for almost forty years. Sure some folks have come and gone, but there’s still a core of us old timers. It’s not like we socialize a whole heck of a lot. Sure, we’ll show up at a Christmas open house and every once and awhile we have a cookout. Mostly, we’re what I’d call neighborly. We look out for each other in a blizzard, stop and shoot the …

Why am I seeing apples on trees and yesterday at the Rite Aid, Halloween candy? That’s just not right! Summer just got started! The older I get, the quicker the seasons pass. Well, not winter. That one tends to linger, doesn’t it? While sweet, sweet summer is like a blink of the eye. Granted, this summer was a hot one. How hot was it? Well, it was so hot, you break a sweat just sitting there watching the tube. It was so hot, you could fry an egg on the sidewalk, bacon on the hood of your car: sizzling! It was so hot, my house has become a no underwear/no shoe zone. Just a loose …

Another summer holiday is here, and you know what that means, don’t you? Men down to Mikey’s Meat Market buying meat. I was in there on Saturday getting some pork chops for supper, and it was a friggin’ mad house. Now, you don’t get this for your winter holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, even Easter, I go into the meat market and it’s mostly exhausted women trying to do higher math. You know, if we’ve got 14 people coming for dinner, how big’s the turkey got to be? Or if the rump roast weighs such and such, how long should I cook it and at what temperature? Man, they don’t ask questions like that on the SAT’s! …

Last weekend, guess what we did. Hung out with our cousins up to Claudette and Roger’s camp. We try to do this once a year, just for the heck of it. What a hoot! Sure, some things have changed. Instead of talking about work, it’s all about when we plan to retire, how long we’re going to try to wait to collect Social Security. Instead of our kids, we talk about aging parents and grand kids. Instead of envelopes of loose photos, we take turns squintin’ at our smart phones, trying to find that great shot we just have to share. We travel more. We drink less alcohol and more decaf.  But some things stay …

Wow! Hasn’t the weather been wonderful so far this summer? Of course, there’s always those who complain. They see it as their civic duty. It’s too hot, too humid, not enough rain, too much rain. And sometimes, sure, the weather does leave a little to be desired. Then, there are days that are just picture perfect. Our friend Johnny T calls them “a bluebird of a day.” Charlie was so taken with that idea, he wrote a poem about it. A Bluebird of a Day From the western hills last night A rumblin’ did come The rain we’ve needed finally fell We closed the windows some By morning, all that humid air Had up and …