A Letter from a Friend

It ain’t over til it’s over

Be careful what you wish for, and yeah, I’m talking to you, Connie, and you, Dennis, and those of you who have graciously encouraged me to write another article. It has been quite a while since I’ve taken pen in hand, literally, to attempt to write something that someone might actually find humorous or at least a bit entertaining.

I like to be funny, not funny-looking; I definitely do not want to be boring. With all that’s going on in the world today, we all could use a little more laughter. My philosophy of life is this: get as much joy out of it as possible, for there’s enough of that other stuff that can’t be avoided. As the old song goes, “Let a smile be your umbrella.” That sums it up for me. Why is it I can remember lyrics from days long gone by but can’t remember to take my grocery list to the store? These golden years are definitely a tad tarnished. The only thing that’s good about getting older is that it beats the heck out of the alternative.

After 50 years in the same house on Albert Rosche, I decided to move. The choice was a good one for me. I really like the neighborhood I live in now, stately homes and lively people, plus sidewalks that are great for my doggie, Harley, and me to take our walks. Harley is a loveable west highland terrier and my best buddy. People we meet along the way are friendly and take time for a chat or a pat for man’s (or woman’s) best friend. I must admit she’s a bit spoiled, but I did it to her, and so have to live with it.

There have always been animals and pets in my life. I loved them all, except my sister’s pet bat. She carried that icky thing around on a stick. Ugh! Actually, I think it scared the dickens out of me. I still get a little loopy on moonlit nights or on Halloween.

Another plus with moving is that my son, Bruce, and his wife, Cindy, live in the same block, and no, I don’t wear out my welcome. At least, I don’t think I do; you’d have to ask them, I guess. Anyway, Bruce loves to cook, and I get to reap some of the benefits. Cooking for one is the pits, and I avoid it like the plague. Bruce’s good friend, Scott, accuses me of eating my green beans straight out of the can! Honestly, I’m not that bad. Seriously, it is a comfort to have them close by.

I wanted to write and let my faithful readers know I haven’t kicked the bucket, and that I’m still on the green side of the grass. Lately I’ve had the privilege of folks recognizing me and coming up to encourage me to write again. Thank you so much for that, and that comes from my heart. Fortunately, it is still ticking.

Seriously, I feel very blessed in my life. I have a lovely family and great, caring friends. Who could ask for anything more?

Love and God bless,

Judy Mae

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Smile for the day:

I know a pastor who gives a special sermon to seniors. It’s called “Blessed are the Pacemakers!”