Since we’re near neighbors, may I call you Uncle Bob? Maybe not. Bob was the name of my first boyfriend whom I’m still trying to forget some 50 years later. However, if one is to discuss one’s bowel function with relative strangers, we should at least be on first name, if not a nickname basis. My nickname was Baba, which means baby in Irish, and then it was changed to Mo—as in the mighty Mo.
Besides, that would give me a chance to say Bob’s your uncle— which is infinitely better than Sweet Old Bob, an acronym my Irish grandmother was inordinately fond of when it came to cursing Oliver Cromwell and American politicians—I had to wait until I was an adult before I discovered Cromwell was 400 years dead. Imagine my surprise. Some of our sitting (no, not shitting) congressman have seemingly joined ranks with Cromwell.
However, your latest missive on aging is a keeper. And it had me giggling in fits and spurts. Thank God no leakage was implicated. Nor were any Pampers harmed in the process. And my back is fine, thank you very much for asking. As are my kidneys and bowels. However, my left leg is not doing so well, my having sprained it two months ago. So I have to stick it up in the air at every opportune moment that comes up. Even while driving. And I drive a clutch.
The incredible shrinking height aspect and aging has me worried as I almost hit 5 foot 3” in my 20s, no, make that my 30s—that is, after extensive chiropractics. I am afraid that at age 70 moseying on up to 71, I have probably lost more than an inch and I am no longer even 5 foot 2.” Chiropractics will not yield me any more attenuated height. Like you, I was mercilessly teased for being skinny and for my short stature, but girls were not expected to be taller than boys. I made up for it with bravado, a profound sense of justice and a feisty ability to use my words in order to sway people.
As for flipping people off while driving down the road, that’s a tough one. I still do it, even though I know I should not. Especially those weekend idiots driving through Nicasio and on the Point Reyes-Red Hill Road. Don’t even get me started on the spandex bicycle warriors, riding in clots two and three abreast on country roads they have no business riding bicycles on.
With that, I too worry about the relative age of our political leaders. Personally, I think the 80s should be the cut off date for Congress. Let’s face it, Di Fi is definitely doddering, and if she is somewhat incapacitated by age, that makes McConnell mouldering away with one foot practically in the grave.
However, your latest missive on aging is a keeper. And it had me giggling in fits and spurts. Thank God no leakage was implicated. Nor were any Pampers harmed in the process. And my back is fine, thank you very much for asking. As are my kidneys and bowels. However, my left leg is not doing so well, my having sprained it two months ago. So I have to stick it up in the air at every opportune moment that comes up. Even while driving. And I drive a clutch.
The incredible shrinking height aspect and aging has me worried as I almost hit 5 foot 3” in my 20s, no, make that my 30s—that is, after extensive chiropractics. I am afraid that at age 70 moseying on up to 71, I have probably lost more than an inch and I am no longer even 5 foot 2.” Chiropractics will not yield me any more attenuated height. Like you, I was mercilessly teased for being skinny and for my short stature, but girls were not expected to be taller than boys. I made up for it with bravado, a profound sense of justice and a feisty ability to use my words in order to sway people.
As for flipping people off while driving down the road, that’s a tough one. I still do it, even though I know I should not. Especially those weekend idiots driving through Nicasio and on the Point Reyes-Red Hill Road. Don’t even get me started on the spandex bicycle warriors, riding in clots two and three abreast on country roads they have no business riding bicycles on.
With that, I too worry about the relative age of our political leaders. Personally, I think the 80s should be the cut off date for Congress. Let’s face it, Di Fi is definitely doddering, and if she is somewhat incapacitated by age, that makes McConnell mouldering away with one foot practically in the grave.
Speaking of bowels, I am reminded that the word senator is related to the word senex, which basically means senile old farts vs. the wet-behind-the-ears puer aeternus. The medieval Irish Agallamh Na Seanórach explores the dichotomy of mindsets. The old and the new. We have a minimum age for politicians, why not an age-cap as a well? It should be included for all members of public office, including judges.
At least Barbara Boxer, whom I worked for when she was running for Marin County supervisor in the way back days, had the good sense to retire while she was ahead. I wish Nancy Pelosi would take notice of that. Of course, this particular line of reasoning would be considered ageist. We won’t mention the politicians nobody wants at the helm—Kevin McCarthy who ran for Speaker of the House and it took 15 attempts to get enough votes to vote him in? And now he’s trying to impeach Biden? That’s rich, considering our last president was brain dead.
Maybe a saner approach that one should not run for political office, that is, Congress, for more than two or three terms. Capping term limits would help enormously and eliminating those long-in-tooth career politicians caught sleeping on the job—but not with the presidency. For that there is no fix.
Maybe a saner approach that one should not run for political office, that is, Congress, for more than two or three terms. Capping term limits would help enormously and eliminating those long-in-tooth career politicians caught sleeping on the job—but not with the presidency. For that there is no fix.
And by the way, speaking of the trickle down theory and going out on those sonorous high notes, you forgot to mention the greatest napper of all, that erstwhile actor-President Ronald Reagan, who unfortunately should’ve quit politics when he was Governor of California. He created homelessness on a grand scale when he closed all the mental institutions, my mother among them.
Bob’s your uncle,
Maureen Hurley,
Forest Knolls
Bob’s your uncle,
Maureen Hurley,
Forest Knolls
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