Robert Fulghum

Reading Robert Fulghum's book "Uh-Oh, Some Observations From Both Sides of the Refrigerator Door."

I like his writing. Most of the time I find him mildly amusing. Occasionally he goes all flower child/hippy on me, and I find myself thinking he went a little too far. I'm a big fan of one's right to swing their fist as long as it stops before the other person's nose. He doesn't always share that sentiment. Years ago I was particularly irritated with a dandelion story he told. In fact, this is the first time I've read one of his books since and I still find I really want to tell him...JUST SPRAY THE DAMN WEEDS!!!!

Oh! Glad I got that off my chest!!!! Amazing what you'll find in the deep dark recesses of your mind.

Back to the here and now. Maybe you have to be 50+ to appreciate this but I find myself in agreement with this excerpt of his:

"There are clues that my life is entering a new stage. My children are beginning to look middle-aged, and they pat me in a patronizing way for no apparent reason. I don't want to ask why they are patting me - I'll take all the affection I can get from them in any form they want to dish it up. But I'm not used to being patted yet."

Yup.

My children would, of course, be offended to be referred to as middle aged, (they are beginning to put on a little extra weight though and one can see a hint of what they'll look like 10-15 years from now.) But I do understand the patting thing. They're already starting to do that. The absent minded, fond pat one reserves for a faithful pet or the favorite over stuffed chair... Just makes you want to say, Hey! HEY! I've got a lot of good years left in me. Where's a motorcycle. I'll show you!

I know why someone came up with that bumper sticker that says:

Avenge yourself. Live long enough to be a problem to your children.

And then one gets a little reality check. Just walking into the house yesterday, caught my toe and took a massive spill on the front porch. Hands were full: mail, purse, pop, keys...and in a second I was face down on the cement. Landed hard. Hard enough that, even though my first thought was a mortified, "Oh, no, did anyone see?" I knew it was prudent to lie still and assess the damage. That there would be blood was a given, but I was unprepared for the fact that my body was not going to obey my mind and just "pop up" when commanded. Great. So, I decided to try to crawl into the house but the body disassociated itself and took a siesta in full view of the world. I finally managed to roll into the shrubbery and get myself upright and going again and while it only took minutes it seemed forever...

Motorcycle indeed.

The only avenging I'll probably do is late night prank calls to the kids from my nursing home room.
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