Seven years ago, for my 69th birthday, my kids took me to a minor league hockey game in Des Moines. My daughter pulled some strings so that I could ride shotgun on the Zamboni. It wasn’t quite as good as getting to drive, but close.
I did my first BASIC programing on a little computer made by ATARI; it was pretty simple, but it gave me a feeling of power that I could tell the machine what to do and it would do it.
About three weeks ago, we came home from the grocery store and the garage door wouldn’t open. The cause? A squirrel in the transformer. Jimmy Johnson has been looking in our windows again.
Back in my teaching days, recess duty meant that 45 degrees in the fall had the kids huddled up by the building; same temperature in the spring had them begging to take off their coats.
Our version of the jingle was “when you’re down to Schlitz, you’re out of beer!”