“What did the volcano say to the earthquake?” My dad’s joke hung over the table as we stopped cutting candy and readied ourselves for his punch line.
It’s hard for me to accept something that was new in my lifetime becoming a classic. From my tail-end-of-the-baby-boomers perspective, compared to the antics of Crosby, Kaye, and Clooney in White Christmas, the animated escapades in A Charlie Brown Christmas are new.
Winter fast approaches and so does the Christmas holiday. I see large snowflakes blending with spattering rain as I wait to taxi my daughter Kathie and our neighbor Michael to school.
Our menu is planned and the table is partially set in my mind until it’s time for us to really put everything in place.
“Many years ago in the ’60s, Black squirrels of London Were exported far away, To Kent State University Where they populate today.
Appropriate words for this time of year, let’s consider the following popular poem attributed to Father Dennis O’Brien, M.
Feeling the chill of dreary fall mornings makes it hard to come out from under bedcovers and get a move on.
Watching the TV commercial where the Cottonelle puppy chases an unfurling roll of toilet paper across the house left me wondering again where our toilet paper is disappearing.
The rampant display of campaign signs before election time annoys me, marring fall’s promising vista with clutter.
Returning my coffee mug to my drawer of personal stuff at work, I noted the apron still there from my camera room days at Farm and Dairy.