I took a long look at myself today and phoned son-in-law Dale for help. I do that often. Simple tasks once performed without thought now take long moments to plan. Move a box; hang my jacket: serious stuff. I had to call the girl from 313 to button my white shirt when I spiffed up for a wedding.
The Good Book says pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. I’m one fall away from who knows what. I ain’t the man I used to be; probably never was. But whatever I am, I’d like to hang around a while longer.
No more fuss. I’ve read the books, done the exercises, and suffered much under therapists. I work my fingers constantly. Like Popeye the sailor man, I yam what I yam. I can still work my way down the hall for Jeopardy and supper with the girl from 313, but if I don’t make it to your party, please understand.
Old Grandpa Lloyd