Recently before I spoke at a Senior’s Luncheon, I was introduced as one who did not need an introduction. That was because I already knew all the folks at this small gathering. It might have been good had my friend stopped there. For he went on to say that the thing he will always remember about me is that years ago I introduced him to bagels. He said he had never had one until I took him to a bagel shop out in Pennsylvania. Problem is, the only breaded thing I like with a hole in the middle of it is a doughnut. Sorry, but I just do not and never have liked trying to chew and choke down a bagel. The last thing I would do is to put someone else through this. I chalked this case of mistaken identity up to him having his own senior moment and did not say anything. Well, until now, I guess.
Speaking of doughnuts, not every Saturday but periodically I’ll take the kids to get a few doughnuts for the morning. One shop we like to go to has its employees wear T-shirts that proclaim “Powered by Doughnuts.” I will not tell which family member it was, but following one visit, after seeing a particularly hefty employee, one said that they should add the prefix “Over” to the front of their slogan.
Also, speaking of seniors, our church began holding chapel services at a local nursing home’s dementia unit. Since my mom lives there, I introduced our group and then said, “Did you know that I am the son of someone who lives here? Does anyone know which one here is my mom?” I waited for a moment, thinking Mom might identify herself but she did not. Yet before I pointed her out, another lady spoke up. “I have three sons, but you are not one of them.” Then pausing, squinting a bit, and leaning forward, she added, “Are you?”
Speaking of children, as the cold weather approaches, I found a sale and purchased rolled insulation for our attic. The day was getting away from me as my son and I wrestled another shrink-wrapped bundle of six rolls upstairs with an excited puppy dancing all around us and an inquisitive daughter asking me question after question. So let’s just say at about that moment some impatience was beginning to develop. As my son cut away the plastic, my daughter asked yet another question. “Dad, why does that insulation stink so bad?” As I sighed before trying to answer yet again, my annoyance turned to bemusement as I told her to look behind her in the hallway. The puppy had deposited his excitement.
Speaking of animals, I probably should not share this as our ladies are renowned for their hospitality and good cooking at Sycamore. Especially if potential visitors might read this. But after yesterday we can now add to the unusual list of dishes that have been served at our Fellowship Meal – a list that includes such things as beaver and roadkill venison – that of squirrel. The men enjoyed talking about it with the two who had hunted and prepared them. I realized this morning we would have even had more fun discussing this if we had been aware of one of today’s headlines displaying once again man’s folly without God: “Man’s First Ancestor Looked Like a Squirrel.”