You Don’t Say
A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
I don’t know if you married chaps out there ever sit down and really read the terms on the back of your marriage license, but you would be wise to pour yourself a dram of high quality single malt and do so. Although you signed the paper, foolishly in front of witnesses, so you are toast anyway.
‘What is this bozo rambling on about this time, Martha, and by the way, where do we keep the marriage license?’
I’m sure you have noticed during a wedding ceremony the holy person, Justice of the Peace, ship’s captain, or motel cleaning lady never once said, ‘Having now read the small print on the back of this license, do you Waldo (place your name here if it isn’t Waldo) still want to take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife to have and to hold and so on and so on…’ do you remember seeing any line in the small print that said ‘whenever a husband is reading it is the duty of his wife to read aloud whatever interests her at the time whether said interests are of interest to him or not?’
Really, you didn’t? Why am I not surprised?
Perhaps I should explain. Mary and I each have a desktop computer and they sit side by side in our makeshift office, reading, and sometimes spare bedroom. It is here I compose the words of wisdom I regularly send out to the great unwashed public so they may improve themselves and hence become better citizens and contribute to the enrichment of Canadian society and the world itself.
This morning, I was working on a scholarly treatise on the benefits and possible risks of strenuous exercise in relation to atrial fibrillation (a particular interest of mine since I can no longer put on my socks without the 9 and the 1 already punched into my cell phone and the car idling in the driveway).
It was then my beloved decided to enlighten me about a number of recent world-wide UFO sightings and the fact our American cousins (possibly estranged cousins at the moment) have a space creature-person and his vehicle locked up in a secret base in New Mexico or some other God-forsaken place down there where coyotes and road-runners abound.
Unfortunately, whenever one is intensely studying a subject, a few words from other sources occasionally get through one’s subconscious and somehow become part of the words you happen to be reading at the time. In this case what Buzz Aldrin saw during his moon landing caused my blood pressure to rise at a terrifying rate; so much so that only a cold beer could bring it down to an acceptable level before we were forced to punch the 1.
When I lovingly shouted ‘HE SAW WHAT?’ she had moved on to a landslide in India and Buzz was forgotten.
Mary and I have totally different interests when it come to news, both local, national and world affairs. I won’t listen to or read about tragic events. Once the number of deaths or injuries start adding up I immediately tune out and start looking for a ball game.
Mary watches the news all day while I do not. Had the Second World War been televised I would have missed it altogether and spent four years wondering why my father went to Europe and left the rest of us at home.
Missing the Korean War was understandable since the hostilities began the very year I discovered girls and most of the 50s is just a blank. Except for a number of embarrassing rejections those years are a blur and I try not to think about them – especially the rejections.
Politics is much the same. I don’t now, and never did, pay much attention. When Brian Mulroney was elected Prime Minister I thought he was replacing Sir Robert Borden and Sir Bob was famous only because he had a cow named Elsie.
Not watching the news can be quite liberating since I never have to lie awake nights worrying about what the political bonehead down south will do next and we know he will, it’s just when.
If what is going on is really important Mary will tell me – whether I want to know or not.
(Image Supplied)
