Laugh When You Can: A Tale Of Brotherly *Love* + A Poem About Methuselah’s Diet

Is this not true?

A Tale Of Brotherly *Love*

The other afternoon the temps were in the lower 80s so I went out onto our screened-in porch to enjoy fresh air and read a book.

I heard kids playing in the ravine behind the house. They were down in the creek bed that’s practically dry this time of year. Kids go exploring down there occasionally and in this case it was two boys, about 6 y.o. and 10 y.o.

I didn’t think a thing about it until I was jolted out of my reading by a loud  Dad voice coming from the other side of the ravine.

Dad said: Alexander, where is your brother?

{Small voice, indistinguishable words}

Dad again: Alexander, I asked you, where is your brother? Where is William!!

{Slightly louder small voice, somewhat indistinguishable, but saying words that included “I don’t know”}

Dad continued: Alexander, I don’t care. Go back down into the ravine and find William. NOW!

At this point I heard a small whimper coming from the bottom of the ravine. A whimper so pathetic that I put down my book, stood up and looked down into the ravine where I saw a small boy sitting on a log by himself, crying, but not hurt or in any danger.

He was pretty much playing up the drama of being left behind.

I shouted over to the Dad telling him that I could see the abandoned brother, that he was fine, and then explained where I was so Alexander, the reluctant keeper of his brother, could find William.

At which point the Dad shouted thanks over my way while giving Alexander one last clearly stated command, a guideline for how to treat your brother.

And maybe all of humanity.

Dad said: ALEXANDER WE DON’T LEAVE OUR BROTHER IN A RAVINE, ANY RAVINE, EVER. Now go find him.

Which Alexander did with some alacrity while I watched, amused, from above.

So sayeth Dad, so let it be.

A Poem About Methuselah’s Diet

I continue to sort through old family photos and papers. In one of the boxes I found the following pithy poem. My father had saved it by cutting it out a newspaper.

According to the introduction to the poem it was on the dinner cards of the 1890 Class, College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York. Researching online I discovered there’s no known author for the poem.

DIET

Methuselah ate what he found on his plate,

And never, as people do now

Did he note the amount of the caloric count;

He ate it because it was chow.

•🔸•

He wasn’t disturbed, as at dinner he sat,

Destroying a roast or a pie,

To think it was lacking in granular fat,

Or a couple of vitamins shy.

• 🔸•

He cheerfully chewed every species of food,

Untroubled by worries or fears,

Lest his health might be hurt by some fancy dessert––

And he lived over Nine Hundred Years!

Here is the poem as seen in print.

Questions of the Day

What have you laughed out loud about lately?

What’s the last thing you overheard that made you stop what you were doing and eavesdrop?

What do you think of Methuselah’s pragmatic diet plan?

• • ❤️ • •

Think Before You Speak: The One About The Cashier Kid And What Bob Taught Him

~ ~ • ~ ~

~ • ~

I WAS SHOPPING IN our local Kroger, standing in line behind a chatty woman who was talking with our cashier, a kid about 18 y.o. He was tall, slim, and personable– plus efficient.

I liked him.

As he goes to hand this chatty woman her bag of groceries an older man who is also tall, slim, and personable, a customer on his way out of the store, shouts over to this cashier kid saying: “how ‘ya doing stupid?”

The customer does a little hand wave and smiles as he walks by.

Our cashier kid smiles, waves back, and says: “okay.”

The older man nods his head, keeps walking, and goes out the door.

I figure this older man is the cashier kid’s grandpa and don’t think anything more about it. They looked enough alike for that to be true.

But I was wrong.

Well, the chatty woman in front of me was NOT PLEASED by this brief conversation. She immediately begins to interrogate this cashier kid: “do you know that man?”

The cashier kid says: “he’s a customer here.”

“And he calls you STUPID?!!”

“Yes, but it’s okay he’s pretty nice, really.”  

The cashier kid starts to look frazzled, clearly not into this conversation, but the chatty woman won’t let it go, she NEEDS to know more so she presses this cashier kid: “You mean he’s a customer who talks to you like that and you’re alright with it? Did you tell your manager what he said? You don’t have to take verbal abuse.”

There’s a long awkward pause.

At this point I realize that the cashier kid is in over his head. This previously pleasant conversation with the chatty woman has taken a weird turn that has him tongue-tied, so I butt in and ask the obvious question saying: “WHY does that man call you stupid?”

~ • ~

And with that THE STORY came out. A good one, totally understandable, one that just goes to show that a little bit of humor goes a long way toward making someone else feel comfortable in a trying situation.

~ • ~

COME TO FIND OUT on the first day the cashier kid worked a register by himself he made a major mistake while ringing up this older man’s groceries. Instead of ringing up a $2.50 half loaf of bread, the cashier kid goofed, ringing it up for close to $30.00.

How did this happen, you might be wondering?

Well for some reason our cashier kid got flustered when he saw a half loaf of bread. His mom buys whole loaves, so this was new to him.

He thought it was a speciality item from the bakery and figured he had to do something manually, like you do when there’s a preordered sheet cake. So he input the code for sheet cake, weighed the bread like it was fresh produce [another thing he shouldn’t have done], and ended up with an expensive half loaf of bread.

He immediately realized he’d done something VERY WRONG so he called to the front end manager to come over to help, then as a way of explanation about what was going on he told this older man that: “I’m stupid.”

To which this older man, the customer, replied: “I’m Bob. Glad to meet ‘ya, Stupid.” 

Dad humor, obviously.

But the kind of humor that according to this cashier kid made him smile. In fact it was just what he needed to hear, realizing that Bob wasn’t upset, wasn’t going to yell at him. That everything was going to work out okay eventually.

And that’s how the cashier kid met Bob, the aforementioned waving customer in the first part of this story, who paid that day without any complaint about what happened. But on his way out Bob leaned over to tell this cashier kid that THE LESSON from this was to never tell anyone that you’re stupid.

Why?

Because they might remember something negative you say about yourself and use it against you in the future.

~ • ~

~ ~ • ~ ~

The One About Grace And Frankie & Fun Quirky Details About My Dad

[Spoiler alert]

• • •

OVER THE WEEKEND I FINISHED WATCHING the last hilarious season of the TV show, Grace and Frankie.  One of the episodes* in this season involves Grace [played by Jane Fonda] reconciling with her younger brother [played by Jamey Sheridan] who she hasn’t seen in years.

She invites him to her house on the pretext of familial love, but the truth is she’s feeling unexpectedly nostalgic and wants him to give her the family recipe for chicken paprikash.

He knows this recipe by heart.

In the course of their conversation he figures out the subterfuge and starts to walk out, but Frankie [played by Lily Tomlin] finds a way for the two of them to get along.

He was young when their father died and he wants to know fun little details about the man.  So for every chicken paprikash ingredient he says, Grace tells him something personal about their father.

This episode was quintessential Grace and Frankie, funny and poignant.

Absurd, yet believable.

• • •

THIS EPISODE GOT ME THINKING ABOUT fun little details about my father;  he died when I was 15 so my memories of him are from a kid’s point of view.  The details I remember aren’t about his professions, or his accomplishments, or his character– just idiosyncratic things about an adult.

Thus in honor of this coming weekend’s Father’s Day in the US, and for snorts and giggles, I share a list of some fun quirky details about my dad.

Ostensibly it’s about my father, but perhaps gives a glimpse into who I am as well.  I’ve read that the oldest daughter is a female version of her father. Maybe so, maybe not.

All I know is he was character.

• • •

✅ He could wiggle his ears.

✅ His favorite holiday was St. Patrick’s Day. He wore a green necktie and green suspenders, and insisted we have corned beef & cabbage dinner– with a shot of Irish whiskey for the adults.

✅ He collected antique guns.

✅ He was a camera-shy** camera nut, with more brands and lenses and tripods and lights than you can imagine. Equipment everywhere.

✅ He kept bees and we ate honey from the hive.

✅ He had a pair of boxer shorts underwear that had a white background with red ants crawling around. When he wore the underwear he’d say he had “ants in his pants.”

✅ He was ambidextrous.

✅ He didn’t suffer fools easily, nor dawdling little girls, so if I was being pokey and said “I’m coming, I’m coming” he’d yell “SO’S CHRISTMAS.” 

• • •

Questions of the Day

If you knew him as a child, what fun and/or quirky little details do you remember about your father?

Are you like him in any ways?

If you watched it, what did you think of Season 7 of Grace and Frankie?

Did the series finale work for you?

* Season7, Episode 14 – The Paprikash

** The best photo of him I have is of him sitting by a cadaver he worked on in med school.  While interesting, it is macabre, not suitable for this PG-13 blog.

In Which I Inadvertently Distress My Primary Care Doctor

Example of daily planner page [via Canva] similar to the ones on which I write my annual doctors’ appointments because I am a good patient.

Well this is awkward…

I went to the primary care doctor’s office for my annual physical.

I see a PCP, a woman, who is in her late 30s.  She’s competent, engaging, and most importantly from my point of view, not an alarmist. Mellow about everything.

Usually.  

Anyhoo, I’m sitting there in the examination room with her and she’s looking at a computer screen, reviewing which doctors I see for annual check-ups.  Which I do because I’m a dutiful adult patient who does what she’s told to do.

[Also because I’m a doctor’s daughter.  And let me tell ‘ya, if as a child you listen to enough detailed dinnertime conversations about people who are icky sick because they didn’t go to their doctors for a regular check-up, then as an adult you make those time-consuming appointments with your doctors for your annual check-ups.]

Again, anyhoo, getting to what I want to tell you…

So my doc looks on her computer screen and confirms with me that I’m seeing a certain dermatologist.  Let’s call him Dr. Face.  She asks me which one of his associates I see when I go for my annual skin care check.  I tell her I see him.

She stops what she’s doing, turns to me and says: “You see him?”

I say: “Yes.”

She says: “I go to that practice and I never get to see him.  He’s the best, I wanna see Dr. Face, too.”

I say: “Yes, he’s good.”

She says: “But Dr. Face doesn’t do your procedures, right?  Some other med assistant or doc does them?”

I say: “No, he does them.”

She says: “Well, how does that happen?  Why does he work on you and not me?”

I shrug.

Then she says: “How’d you find him?”

I say: “You referred me.”

There is a long pause while she looks at my chart on the screen and I say nothing.  

Then she says, more like a girlfriend than my doctor: “Well darn, I gotta refer myself.  I’m jealous.  I can’t believe you get to see Dr. Face and I don’t.”

At which point, even though this was kind of funny, I didn’t smile at my good fortune, instead I made murmuring sounds of sympathy for my doctor’s sad realization that she wasn’t getting the best healthcare that she wanted. 

Because doctor is a nice woman, who I am sorry to report, doesn’t seem to have the right connections to get in with Dr. Face.

Go figure!