Romancing the bus

As I pointed out in an earlier essay of mine, I have never been a bus driver. Nevertheless, I have extensive busage experience. I rode a bus back and forth to school, I am estimating, a minimum of two hours per day, five days a week, over a period of about nine years of my young life, thus accounting for who knows how many total hours (feel free to do the math).

Those long rides, day in and day out, were pretty boring, so, along with most everyone else on board, I was always on the lookout for some activity to occupy my time. In retrospect, homework or reading would have been an obvious option. But my peers and I were far more likely to be socializing on these protracted trips. At some point, though, as a young teen whose frontal lobes were still largely vacuous, it occurred to me: Why not pursue a little romance? I mean, really, what better way to get to know an attractive co-ed than to sit down next to her at dark-thirty in the morning for some idle conversation?

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School busage

Dave and his Cool Bus-with Fuji the artosauraus up there.

My dear friend, Dave, drives a bus for a school district in the great state of Washington. His kids, who ride with him every day, have come to refer to his vehicle as the “cool bus,” which comes as no surprise to those who know him. But Dave has rules for his kids, one of which is:

No explosives allowed!



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Against the grain

Have you ever tried to stroke a cat’s fur in the wrong direction? If so, you probably only did it once.

But such contrary action does not always result in undesirable consequences. For example, this past Saturday afternoon, while looking for BOGOs in the ice cream section of Publix, I noticed on my list that I had forgotten something located completely across the store in the bakery section. So, I wheeled my cart around and headed back, as it turned out, against the grain.

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Taking a deep breath

This past Tuesday evening, while perusing Apple News on my iPad, I stumbled upon a hyperventilating announcer ranting about President Trump and his dealings with CNN interviewer, Jim Acosta. I listened to about ten words and moved on to what seemed to be a more interesting headline only to be informed that since Melania Trump had harsh words for a certain staffer in the White House—omigosh, connect the dots—President Trump must be going to fire Mr. Kelly! (Chief of Staff)

And yada yada yada…

Distraught by all the negativity, I put my iPad down and turned on the TV to see if I might find a less wearisome distraction on YouTube or something.

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Elder musings

A wise old owl

I recently read an article in the local newspaper regarding a retired, 75-year-old man who had become so deeply in debt that he felt he had no alternative but to rob a bank. He wasn’t very good at it and was caught almost immediately. The article went on to report that this “elderly man” would be charged with a felony. What caught my eye there was the characterization of this guy as “elderly”. So, apparently, I have at most only three more years until I am considered to be elderly, at least in the eyes of the local press corps.

Regardless of how one might characterize a person of my vintage, it is often assumed that us graybeards must be wise as well as old, right? Well, I can assure you that is not always the case. But given the benefit of the doubt, if I am so old and, ergo, sage, then, just what, exactly, have I learned over all these years? Hmmm. Well, here are a few aphorisms I can share with you, in no particular order.

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