Saturday, January 22, 2011

If Elected

I’ll try to be brief. Remember ... I said I’ll TRY. 

This has been one of those weeks. Something like ... what was that old saying? ... “The faster I go, the behinder I get.” So here it is, Friday night again ... ALREADY ... and not only have I barely started to think about “Squiggles,” there’s a place I have to be tonight.

But don’t worry. The long curving, sloping, looping, sweeping driveway that eventually winds up at the stables and servants’ quarters here at Brimm Manor ... has been cleared of snow ... so I should be able to get out and ... more important ... back in to pick up the loose threads of “Squiggles.”

That clearing of the driveway was done largely thanks to Stephen ... who happened by at just the right time to take over the major (steepest) portion and leave just a bit of tidying up for Phyllis and me. (I’m the “supervisor” in all this ... but that’s strictly off the record, so please don’t tell anybody).

So I started out by saying I’d be brief, remember? Well, maybe next time.


AS SOME OF YOU may know, Professor Squigglee is fairly lenient when it comes to giving out grades ... but he does check attendance.

LOREE (Kansas) no doubt had this in mind when she wrote to explain her absence of last week: 

I had this was so darned cold, that I stayed under the covers and on the heated mattress pad ... almost 24 / 7 !  

In fact, to be quite honest, the only time I ventured out from that nest was when the mattress pad kicked off (automatically, after so many hours) and the bed got cold.  That was a great time to turn it on all over again, and while it was warming the bed again, I would try to figure out what day it was, if it were morning or evening, so I could open the correct container on the pill box, snarf those down, and after a pit stop, hit the bed running!

On Thursday, my weekly visit to the beauty shop culminated in my getting my hair chopped off ... SHORT!  And of course, we were still in the throes of that week of living with the Artic Express.

But hey, when it comes down to wearing a stocking cap, or saving my hairdo, the cap won out!


BOOK NOOK: I’m just getting up to speed with Chronology of Native Americans, by Greg O’Brien. I’m also working my way through The Treasury of English Poetry, edited by Mark Caldwell and Walter Kendrick. I keep that one at bedside, and usually end my day with it. 

And what’s on your reading table ... or electronic device?


TODAY’S QUOTE: “We’ve had a bit of snow here in Ohio (perhaps you heard) - but it is winter, you know. How bad was it? Well, it was so bad that ... believe it or not ... some drivers had slowed down ... almost down to the posted (safe-under-perfect-conditions) speed limit. Can you believe?” - Professor Squigglee


TODAY’S POEM: For those who may have stolen a look at the poem before reading the introduction ... Don't worry. I'm not running for office.

Honest. I'm not planning any long-winded speeches, I won't be asking for money ... or even your vote ... and I certainly won't be making any promises I can't keep. I promise you that.

Then what?

Today's poem was written at another time ... in another place ... when and where it seemed that everybody else in the whole universe was vying for a position at the public trough.

It was a time when politicians were talking our ears off ... and dogs were barking all night. What a wonderful combination, I thought ... and there's no disrespect for dogs intended in that, I assure you.

If I WERE to be elected ... to anything ... it seemed to me at the time ... I would prefer to be the officeholder responsible for "mudging" curs (whatever that means) ... not the first time that a responsibility has been invented out of pure air (remember when we still had some of that?) ... in order to garner the votes of the undecided ... and unsuspecting ...

Well, from there it was strictly downhill ... and fast. But I had fun with the poem (remember, no disrespect for dogs intended). Here it is:


When finally I have
attained full growth,
I think that I
should like to be
a curmudgeon, which,
I'm told by my pal,
clear-eyed Ed,
is one who
mudges curs.

It's the least they
deserve for barking
all night at nothing
in particular while
decent folk are
pounding pillows,
trying to sleep,
but only attaining

I promise, if elected,
not to be stingy
with my curmudgeoning.
© 1997

(originally published in Parnassus Literary Journal)


COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like. 

Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to

... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)


Oh, and if you’d like to see what’s up with my other ... DAILY blog ... here’s a link to it:

Thanks for paying a visit.


UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!


© 2011

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