Trying to Navigate the Middle of the Road
As I continuously creep closer to senility, I tend to think about the past more. For the last week or so I keep thinking back to the things adults would tell us that just weren’t true. Yes, it’s true, our parents told us lies. Now I’m sure they had their reasons, and some of them may have even been legitimate, but they were lies nevertheless. Here are some of the ones I remember.
Here is a post I pulled out of my draft pile.
Back in the late seventies or maybe the early eighties, Billy Joel had a song titled “Scenes From an Italian Restaurant”. Unfortunately, I don’t have any Italian Restaurants near me so I can’t describe any scenes from them. I suppose I could go to the nearest chain Italian Restaurant but is that really Italian? We had a nice Italian restaurant here in town, one that had been here for a long time. But the owner passed away recently and now it sits empty, no bottles of red, no bottles of white.
Every time I get a chance I will go to a classic diner. They’re getting harder and harder to find. Good ones are even scarcer. What do I define a “Classic Diner “ as? Back in the day, it would have to have been locally owned, in its own building, preferably with a barrel-shaped roof, good food, and friendly people working there.
I’ve finally set a retirement date. At least an official one, where I actually live off the government. The Government won’t pay me enough, so I will still have to work a part-time job, but it will be easier on me. Maybe you’ve noticed I have been writing more posts lately. Maybe I can start making money this way?
I needed to do something I haven’t had to do in a long, long time Thursday. Something old school. I actually had to talk to someone face-to-face. You know in person. Remember where you have to actually look at someone? I could even have touched the person if I wanted to.
Have you ever thought about where the name of the street you live on came from? I’m not talking about the easy ones like Elm, Maple and Main, but some of the others not so much.
I’m sitting here on this Memorial Day wondering why I never seem to write any more. It’s not that I don’t have the time anymore, now that I am “semi-retired” I have more time than ever. But instead of using that time in productive ways, I waste it away watching YouTube videos or playing games on my phone.
As those of you have read this blog in the past know. I have become somewhat comfortable with using technology. But then, something happens making me shake my head and set me back Yes, as you can tell I had an issue with a piece of technology this week.
The name of this blog is Odds and Ends. I chose that name because I wanted it to be a place where I could write about anything, This post is of the Odd variety.
You know for fifty some odd years I would go out for walks in the woods to relax. I would smell the smells of nature, hear the sounds of the birds, the wind and the water. When I was done I would go home and be done with the whole experience until the next time. Then I came across that stupid rock.
So the other day I was driving down Main Street here in “Honest Town” admiring the beautiful architecture and thinking what a place this must have been back in the 1890’s and early 1900’s. Just like many other towns in New England you will see names and building dates on these buildings. Then a sobering thought struck me.
