Here is the second part of my return on the people, places and particularities that were part of my column in 2021.
To the various streaming services that made it difficult for the Wolfsies to stay friends with anyone who doesn’t subscribe to the same options as us: it makes it hard to find topics to talk about over dinner. I feel bad for Mikki. She has no cable. We had been so close for 30 years. I miss her.
To people who publish books on chess, a skill I tried to learn during the Covid lockdown: First, I bought Chess for Dummies, then Chess for Beginners, and finally Beat your Dad in Chess . None of them helped. I opted for chess for people puzzled against checkers.
To my friend Marc Allen who has been the victim of dozens of misuse because his name is first on my contact list: he asked to be taken off the list, so now my insurance agent Ashley is getting all my unintentional calls. She told me she was changing her name to Zelda.
And thanks to me who tried unsuccessfully to be a cranky old man, a title I deserve to have at 75: To achieve this accolade, I complained about everything in my neighborhood. I yelled at the kids to play basketball in our dead end Sunday morning; I wrote nasty letters to people who were throwing out their garbage a day earlier. I left nasty notes with people who left their garage doors open and didn’t shovel their sidewalks. Have people called me cranky? NO! They elected me president of the owners association.
To the young man at the office supply store who looked puzzled when I asked for a landline for my office, “Oh, I don’t know if we carry them,” he said. “But look in the far corner of the store by the carbon paper and the white and the floppy disks.”
To the folks at AARP who sent me my 300th copy of their newsletter which included recommendations on how to live a stress free life. For example, AARP said to take the time to appreciate your partner’s skin. (I thought it sounded very romantic. Then AARP added, “Be on the lookout for suspicious moles.” Well, that kind of ruins the mood.)
To the makers of the mousetrap who claim on the packaging: “That kills over 100 mice per set of batteries”: wouldn’t you like to know how many times you can change channels with your remote control or open and close your door? garage with some AAA? This information is usually never included. But battery deaths? Directly on the box.
To the chirping sound that echoed through our house every 30 seconds: We couldn’t locate the problem and it drove us crazy for three days. We finally located the wandering smoke detector. The constant chirping had no lasting effect on us, but our cat is still in therapy once a week.
To Mary Ellen who was traumatized when our cat killed a mouse in our basement cellar: She humanizes animals and gives them all her heart. I suggested we try not to think about it that night and watch a fun movie. Ratatouille was probably a bad choice.
Dick Wolfsie was a reporter for WISH-TV in Indianapolis for over 30 years. Its columns appear in 30 Indiana newspapers. He is a resident of Indianapolis. Email: [email protected]