by Pa Rock
More Typist than Thinker
You've all seen this guy at a family reunion, or the local coffee shop, or on a park bench. He is an old codger who can't control his drool and loves to tell stories. Some of his stories are better than awful, but just barely. The trouble is that if he ensnares you for too long, he begins to do reruns. He can't help it. As time passes and his brain begins to shrink, his memory is also contracting.
The old coot is me - or I am he - and some days I am Bob down the road. The further I rip along the universe, the shorter my tale gets.
My youngest informed me that the story of Fred Blue that I posted two nights ago sounded awfully familiar. I replied back that I could have written it before but did not think so. He did some digging and told me to check out the Ramble for July 7, 2008. I did - and there it was - my first ode to the wonderful Mr. Blue. Not only had I forgotten writing and posting the original, but a quick read showed me that I had done a much better job with it than with my later effort. So my memory is going, as are my writing skills.
And now I can't even find my bib!
BTW: Fred was the caliber of individual and friend who was worthy of two postings!