Something about growing old ...

... if I could only remember ...

from Don Norris

Whadda ya mean, you can't hear me?

I mean, that's all I get these days, ever since the open-heart operation at Lahey Clinic, ever since I celebrated my 85th birthday. Whadid'ya say???

There have been two guys on the Stringer staff a few years older than me, both now gone to  heaven. They seem to have had the same problem. Maybe it's just
nature -- what happens to you when you get up-in-the-eighties. Whadidya say?

My advanced years were exascerbated by the heart surgery, but that was my
choice. I mean, when the medicos tell you the alternative of heart surgery, life
gets mighty short. So maybe, now that it's done, I'm good for another five years
-- maybe ten. It looks good, for my mother lived to 92. But then, Dad kicked
the bucket at the early age of 69.

People get ticked-off when I say, wha'd you say? They get sarcastic in tone,
and exaggerate their volume in response. Hey, did I do that with my folks? One
of the main 'purps' is my own wife, that lovely child I married when we got
out of school. I know she loves me, still, but I get a chastising look every
time I say 'Whadid you say?'

So I'm thankful, and I know I'll have to continue to say "whadidyousay? for the next five or so years.

It's tough at the Stringer meetings. I make the mistake of sitting at the end
of the table, but all the other, closer, seats are taken. Besides, I'm the only
pro newsman on our staff. They can't afford to get mean with me. I mean, who'd
write all the stories -- like this one -- if I weren't around???

Now, what did you say?

September 5, 2016

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