Played golf recently with a couple named Paul and Karin March. In this league we don’t talk golf while playing golf. The conversation got to life and television. Karin said, ‘I’ll know when Paul dies, because if the clicker doesn’t change the channel in 10 seconds he’ll be dead.?
Later that thought took me to near-death experiences I’ve endured and other scary things. When I was about 13 we lived at 909 Corunna Avenue, Owosso. (Why do I remember that address and can’t remember our children’s birthdays?)
Owosso had two theaters, Strand and Capitol. This Saturday afternoon a cops and robbers movie was showing, wherein the bad guys had severely beaten a good guy. His face was bloody, swollen and frightening . . . no, sickening.
I thought I was going to faint and went outside to sit on some steps to recover, while hoping no friends saw me suffering from lack of courage.
I was skinny then, and maybe five feet tall. Today I’m a few inches over six feet tall and several pounds over 225. I’m just as weak now as I was then about seeing people on the screen with busted faces, spitting blood and hurting, though I know it’s acting.
After seeing an initial preview of a Rocky movie, 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5, I couldn’t be dragged to a screening with promise of money, prizes or great afterlife. I know I’d faint.
Which brings me to another problem I have with fear. Being larger than average, I think there is an image to maintain. I should be strong. I should be fearless. I should be a leader of the weak and defender of lesser strengthened people.
But, I ain’t.
I’m scared of so many things its scares me. Claustrophobia is just one of them. I’ve had attacks in dental chairs, MRI tunnels, mountain passes, stuck elevators, small rooms, back seats of 2-door cars and closets. I’m amazed that I don’t have the attacks in airplanes. They’re pretty confining.
I don’t look forward to going out in the dark to get my morning paper in the winter time. I wouldn’t think of going in the woods hunting without a compass, matches and map for fear of getting lost.
I’m scared of failure. I’m scared of success. I’m scared of all animals except Shayna. She has negative fears, like not getting table scraps, not getting a treat whenever she come in any door, not getting to lick my plate and not getting enough wrestling time, ear rubs, petting and compliments.
Come to think of it, I, too, am afraid of not getting enough petting and compliments. If Bill Huntoon is reading, don’t give me your petting.
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Longtime readers will recall that I like imaginative signs on service trucks. Chic Drumheller remembered and sent some:
Sign on a septic tank truck: ‘Yesterday’s meals on wheels.?
Towing company: ‘We don’t charge an arm and a leg, we want your tows.?
At a propane filling station: ‘Thank heaven for little grills.?
On a fence: ‘Salesmen welcome! Dog food is expensive.?
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Were you listening to Paul Harvey on radio when he told about the daytime nurses complaining to their bosses at a hospital out west about how much cleaning of patients they were having to do in recent weeks?
Seems like the bedridden were having more than the usual number of ‘accidents.?
Their superiors took the complaints seriously and investigated. They discovered the nighttime nurses were envious of the day-timers and they were playful.
The night-nurses were giving laxatives a little more freely than prescribed.