Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance

 With the stars up above in your eyes

A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies

Except, Bessie's hubby committed adultery years ago, leaving a 30+ year marriage beyond reproach... 

And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
You know I'm tryin' to please to the calling
Of your heartstrings that play soft and low

Oh sure, she was lonely, but.... today, October 31, 2024 was all about something different.  Bessie had reached age 65, Medicare set... after 34 years of driving to/fro the factory, retirement loomed the next day, November Uno.

You know the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

Hush Van, this is about Bessie making it to November 1.   The day began like any other... Coffee on, quick shower.. microwaved scrambled eggs, some ham and cheese tossed in.  She peeked outside.. Eerie.  Very eerie.  Dark, fog consumed the view.  Perfection given by Nature for the soon to march little goblins and vampires.

Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?

Van, that ain't what this is about. Sure Bessie was...... close your ears... 'that'... but she had given into the fact Romance, Moondance, making love - were simply a button, song dialed up on Spotify, and she was OK with that.

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight
I can't wait 'til the mornin' has come
You know, I know now the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run

Making love was now = retirement.

Tomorrow.  Retirement, tomorrow.

And when you come, my heart will be waiting
To make sure that you're never alone
There and then all my dreams will come true, dear
There and then I will make you my own

Hair now mostly dry, clothed, she grabbed her coat, headed out the door for THE last day at the factory.  Car cranked, a ding went off.  "Damnit, I need gas."  Dark, windy as hell, leaves, limbs, blowing horizontally across the road, a light rain falling..  Spooky as hell. She could do it. One more day.

And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside
And I know how much you want me, that you can't hide

Sure, retirement wanted her, or was it her wanting retirement.  The lights from the car way too damn close behind blinded her.  Why?  Why so close?  Bessie, it's Victurd the blogger and I ask the same damn thing virtually every morning.  Are they jealous of my 2002 Buick Century with one window (mostly) taped up?

Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?

Make it thru the day.  Punch in, give my all, Bessie dreamed of sleeping until 10am November 1.  The car behind also turned into the Caseys to fuel up.  Right behind her. She'd dodged 7 downed limbs, couldn't see the damn white lines - but, managed to make it to pump 8 to fill.

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies

The "who the hell is in that car" presently won out over her thoughts of romance, making love - RETIREMENT, the next day.  The fact the TWO guys in the car behind were wearing masks...  Were they still skimpish of Covid?  Dressed up for Halloween for work?  Or, were they murderers who would rob, kill her, thereby removing any hope of an AARP card in her billfold.

And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
You know I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heartstrings that play soft and low

Watching her closely, she punched the wrong dayum debit card 4 digit pin number in wrong six times.  One guy pumped gas in the dark colored car, the other guy sat in the passenger seat, and Bessie swore his phone had a binocular app as it was trained right on her shaky hand, this time, correctly getting the pin # right.

You know the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

Later Van, this is serious crap.  Bessie finished fueling... got her phone out... punched in 9 1, leaving it readied for entering the last 1, should they force her off the road, rape, rob and pillage her.

Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?

The fog had partially lilfted, which, was good and bad.  By now, she could detect their faces (or, at least the masks that covered them) in the rear view mirror, and yes, following her...  VERY CLOSELY again.  In fact, they actually pulled up beside her, frantically signaling for her to roll down her window.  No way Bessie would comply.  No way.  One more day, leave me the hell alone.

One more moondance with you
In the moonlight
On a magic night
La, la, la, la, la, in the moonlight
On a magic night
Can't I just have one more, more dance with you, my love?

The two would not give up in their quest to talk to Bessie.......... begrudgingly, she said a Hail Mary and slightly cracked her window.  She just knew a bullet, maybe even a taser was upcoming.  One eye on what road she could see...  On eye on the masked, scary, men.  

"YOUR LEFT TAILLIGHT IS OUT, AND, WE HOPE YOU AIN'T GOING FAR BECAUSE YOUR RIGHT REAR PASSENGER TIRE IS ALL BUT FLAT!"

Her heart pittered.  Pattered.  Her expression went from hearing Ave Maria at her funeral, to quick shock, then, a baby smile... a wave... and a muttered "Thank you!".

Whew.  Or, was it a trick to get her to pull over?  She made it the last ten blocks to work.  Signs all about the parking lot "Good luck Bessie!". Well I'll be damned, the right rear tire WAS damn near flat.  Nothing Hammer, the work do all, fix all, couldn't help her with.

Emotions ran the gamut.  She finally punched (and caked), then, punched out that last time.  Thanks for the air in my tire Hammer.  "You're welcome, good luck Bessie."

Home. Quick sandwich.  Candy from WallyWorld poured into a basket by the front door to pacify the snotnose goblin and vampires.. Elsa's, Spidermen, all. Each and every doorbell ring, she'd peek out the blind to make sure it wasn't the two dudes in the masks that follered her this morning.

9pam, no knocks for over an hour.  She flipped the porchlight off, retired upstairs.  Bessie was gonna make it.  Take this job and shove it, I ain't driving there no more. Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance.

Makeup, bra off.  Face washed, alarm set.. oh, nevermind, don't need no stinking alarm.  She plunged into bed, the gravity of the day made that easy.

Just as her eyeballs thought they'd seen the last of her last day of the working world... she was about to drift off into AARP land........ a pair of eyeballs in the darkened walkin closet peered at her.  Was it the driver, and if so, where the hell is the other guy?  She, only for a sec, closed her eyes to hurriedly reopen them, making sure her focus saw what it saw.

Crap. They did.  Two eyes.  Not four, two.

With I hope you don't see me pulling the blanket back, she pulled the blanket back.  Grabbed her phone, got up, ran out, fortunately had her robe on the bedroom door handle........... dialed 911... she ran several houses away, detailing what was happening to the 911 dispatcher.

The small town had just hired, trained, a swat team.  And this, was to be their first test.  One by one, six cop cars pulled in and parked a block away from Bessie's.  In spite of having plenty of shields, vests, guns, ammo, simultaneously the six gulped their initial fear out.

Bessie was nowhere near.  The house was locked.  A battering ram fixed that.  Inside - they sped up the stairs, house still dark... bedroom door ajar... pushed it open... crawled, all six of em, inside.  Yep, there were the eyeballs Bessie spoke of.  They moved.

All hell broke loose.  ONE, TWO, THREE shots rang out.

FOUR, FIVE, SIX!  Awakened neigbors six blocks down the road.

Finally, SEVEN!  Then EIGHT!

Utter silence.

Bessie lived a little over 15 years after that day.  She was 99% lonely, no moondance, but she did make it to Cancun (one night fling with a landscape guy)...  Turks and Caicos, a brief thing with the piano player at the hotel shortly after him serenading all for the all you can drink mimosa breakfast.  Bessie was uncertain if it was his golden locks, his voice, or, the bottomless mimosas that rendered her bottomless that day.

She lived a good life in retirement.  But too sad, lonely, ne;er wanted, stated desire for that moondance.

One HUGE reason, her kitty cat, Luna, she of 9 lives, never ever sat on her lap, nor jumped in her bed after that fateful October 31st night.

Love, Victurd

Birdy Birdy in the sky.... Why did you do that in my eye?

I was born September 21, 1935, the 6th of 7 kiddos to Edmund and Dorothy.  They sent me to Saint Joseph's Preparatory School, where I was, surprise surprise, president of the Drama Club.  I am a mixture of English, Irish, German and Dutch.

At the ripe age of 8, I began my acting career, where I worked as a tourning performer for the Mae Desmond Theatre for nine years.  You there, reading this?  You paper boy kinda person. Did your first gig approach anything resembling NINE years?

There was a stint in the Air Force where I was an intelligence officer...  there, I also sharpened my comedy act, as well as poetry

Between 1957 and 1962 I was on the Tonight Show with Jack Paar..WHO? Jack Paar.  If you remember, you're old too.  I did comedy and a lotta poetry, and it was there, The Tonight Show... Jack wasn't feeling up to Paar (haha) and Jerry Lewis was the guest host.  Jerry took a liking to me and gave me my first real gig in the Movie The Nutty Professor.

Rolled on to a role as the poetry reciting cowboy on The Beverly Hillbiillies (Quirt Manly) and, bugged My Favorite Martian's show oncer..  

Then, on to Laugh In.  OOOHHHHH, OOOOHHHHHH, MR COTTIERRREEEE I KNOW I KNOW! Calm down brother, not yet.  

Sometimes plagiarism ain't enough, ya gotta bite the bullet and give in to copy/paste... this, from Wiki :

"He often played "The Poet", reciting poems with "sharp satirical or political themes". ______ would emerge from behind a stage flat, wearing suit and tie and holding an outlandishly large artificial flower. He would bow stiffly from the waist, state "[Title of poem] — by _____ ______" in an ironic Southern U.S. accent, again bow stiffly from the waist, recite his poem and return behind the flat.

I had a fun time.  I think I counted 39 movies... I was in 107 different TV shows... it was always fun doing my taxes...  W-2's all lined up...  Most everything I did surrounded fun. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Nashville, The Blues Brothers, Wedding Crashers.  Not a bad life too eh?

Oh, I worked in animation too.  I was the voice of Wilbur the pig in Charlotte's Web.. My wife Lois and I were fortunate to have three boys who all went on to work in the Entertainment industry.  Jonathan, and Executive with Universal Pictures, Charles, a director and visual arts supervisor , and James, a screenwriter.

I passed in September in 2009.  What I, James Bateman, wouldn't give to write and perform a political satire poem on the state of affairs of today.  I would sign it with......

By Henry Gibson

Love, Victurd

Big sceeen..... and..... little bitty picture in picture

The times, they done changed.

Take you back...

Do do do do

Take you back

Victor, not that song....... please?

Whatever Mick.....

My last 'date' was actually a couple years or so ago.  Beautiful young lady - we went to 'the bigscreen' to see Clifford, The Big Red Dog. Holy guacamole...  Bigscreens BIGGER... theater was sparse... the seats were heated... vibrated... and you could push a button and actually lay down.  My six year old granddaughter tried out three different seats - laying down, getting toasty on that Winter day... and giggling at the vibration.

Without intent, my son accidentally put my bigscreen outta commission a few days back, and I've simply been remiss on going to Wally to get an El Cheapo replacement.

It's actually kinda been nice. Armed with my El Cheapo Android, and the laptop or chromebook thingy.... I can watch TV any dang time, place, I wanna.  I know you knew that, I'm a simpleton, behind the changing times of electronics.

This morning as I blog, my phone is plugged in to boost from zilcho percent to usable - so, blogging 'here' (chromebook) and....... watching the local news - picture in picture, in a little box, mebbe 1 inch by 2 inches - over here------------> in the right hand corner.

It made me think of life.  I know, I know, much does.  We do do (there we go with that again... ) we do do that though - picture in picture with our eyeballs.  I just closed my eyes, saw my grand, a couple years younger, flip flopping from this seat, to that seat - and it was a very good thing, as I haven't seen her in waaaaaayy too long.

As we focus on the Bigscreen (life), little snippets pop-up.. ---------->  here,

of reminders.  We see, visit with a friend - in the real, live, bigscreen of life - but, in our mind, we can tune into that little bitty screen and peek at 'em back in the day when we sat side by side on the Little League bench.  In Freshman English class.  That time we went fishin' at Hooter's pond.

Picture in picture.

Picture in picture in the Bigscreen of life - is, simply awesome.  Up can pop 'videos' of those who no longer walk beside us on the face of the Earth.  The beauty, ya ain't gotta dig out a VHS, get it transferred to whatever it is you transfer it to... stick it in the tv machine thingy, then watch.  Picture in picture of the Bigscreen of life. Built in, we gots all them rods and cones, photo receptors that brilliantly display 'yesterday'.

Picture in picture, I reckon, is kinda like 'on demand' in the real world.  Not exactly Netflix and chill - but... yesterday and smile.

One beloved friend, who, over time has gone completely blind - STILL has that picture in picture recall of yesterday.

Ya don't need no remote to 'flip the channels' of the picture in picture.  You kinda I Dream Of Jeannie 'blink it' to whateverinthehell mem you wanna have.  Mebbe, first day on that geological job?  Offroad jeeping in the Colo mountains?  First time you stepped behind the podium for an Economics lecture?  A replay of Big'ns "The Shot"?  You got it, right there, in the Blockbuster of the brain.

The first horse you painted, yep... back when you won the hunnerd yard dash your Senior year, uh huh.  36 Moss Street, oh baby.  Mebbe when you sit and peek out the Bigscreen, ya think, "Did I really usedta be able to run, do a roundoff, THEN a backspring?"  Yep, all ya gotta do it peek......------------------>  over here... in the picture in picture of life.

Hey, remember when you were named a Little All American up there in Nebraska?  And you over there, ya paid a photographer boo koo dolla' for 1,763 wedding photos, don't need em.  All ya gotta do if peek out the Bigscreen of life, find that picture in picture and there you have it, the beauty of she, he, it all.

I don't mind not having my fitty-five inch TV in disrepair.  I may keep it this way for awhile.  I love my little 1 inch by 2 inch, picture in picture of life, then and now.  Just image the rolling of 'the credits'.  The characters.  The fun. 

Yum.

Sorry, kinda, got carried away.

Even Clifford looks huge in the little box over here ------------------>

The Bigscreen of life - life, and little bitty boxes, loom large.

Party on Garth.

Love, Victurd

Don't stop.........

I've always enjoyed them two words.  Oh baby, what a difference a comma makes.  Let's eat, grandpa!  Let's eat grandpa!

I like cooking, my family, and my pets.  I like cooking my family and my pets.

DON'T STOP!  DON'T, STOP!

… If you wake up and don't want to smile
If it takes just a little while
Open your eyes and look at the day
You'll see things in a different way

… Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be better than before
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone

Over the river and through the woods we traverse the roller coaster of life.  E = mc2.  No, damnit, or, no damnit, your call. That ain't it. We have days fit for a king, and winter mood days where we wanna hibernate like a bear.

… Why not think about times to come?
And not about the things that you've done
If your life was bad to you
Just think what tomorrow will do

Victor?  Yes?  Do we HAVE to do positive crap today?  Well, I reckon we don't.  I suppose, one could don a pair of Depends, go lay in bed, and continue to lay in bed when the urge hits to you know, ie, waller if ya wanna.  Eww.

(I'm reminded of a recent trip I took on Greyhound. Bus driver/speech-maker let's us load up in Kansas City...  Stands, announces... 'Now, we're going to Topeka, and Wichita, and Ok City, and then all the way to Dallas.  Some'a you is riding all the way with me. There's a bathroom in back. Go #1 all you want, but, don't go #2 because I don't wanna go all the way to Dallas smellin' that crap.')

Driver really said that?  Uh huh.

… Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be better than before
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone

Some, don't wanna go to Dallas...er, I mean, don't have interest in tomorrow.  Ya ever seen them 'Complain complain is my name' types?  They play Baseball Ray?  No, they play "Ain't it awful." No matter.  No matter what you present to assist. "Nope, that won't work."  But what if you tried (enter comforting suggestion here.). Already tried, didn't help.  But maybe you could...  Huh uh, tried that too, didn't work. Bottom(Depends)line, they basically wanna lay in misery... No matta', you give 'em thirteen suggestions - they wanna wall'r all day in #2.

… All I want is to see you smile
If it takes just a little while
I know you don't believe that it's true
I never meant any harm to you

… Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be better than before
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone

I kinda feel... (Oh crap Victor, here comes your Joel Osteen impresssion.)

Ahm, OK, call it what you want.

… Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be better than before
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone

I kinda feel, sure, yesterday is gone, BUT, yesterday has brought us SO MUCH, it only makes sense to think about tomorrow.  Look back on all the smiles we've collected in life.  All the memories, people, fun occasions, loved ones, rivers, mountains, pets, CHILDREN... all... all the thrills along the way.  Thinka what the fridge would look like if we attached every fun, wunnerful, emotionally uplifting moment with a refrigerator magnet.  We might not even be able to see, get into the milk to spill it.

… Don't you look back
(Ooh)
Don't you look back
(Ooh)
Don't you look back

I get it, Fleetwood Mac.  But too, if we don't think about all the beauty, love, fun, folks we've met along the path... the teachers.. teammates.. brothers, sisters...  cousins.. CHILDREN... things we've seen, times we've danced..  wouldn't all that make us reason, there'll be more, tomorrow?

Don't stop thinking about tomorrow

I don't have a Paul Harvey Dallas ending... I got off in Ok City.

Seeya tomorrow? TGLW.

Love, Victurd

The power of love.......

The power of love is a curious thing
Make-a one man weep, make another man sing
Change a hawk to a little white dove
More than a feeling, that's the power of love

Hi, my name is Victor, and I'm an apathyholic.

Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream
Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream
Make a bad one good, make a wrong one right
Power of love that keeps you home at night

I woke up, fell out of bed, kinda.. peed, then dragged a comb across my head.  All kindsa thoughts went thru the attic of my brain. (Skeery eh? Cobwebs, assured dead brain cells on the floor'a the medulla oblongata - victim of Miller Lite, Natty Light, Bright lights, late night blogging, that there portion where the R rated thoughts are stored, much, VERY much, useless facts, trivia, youtube scoop on the proper way to turn your right elbow on the golf swing, song lyrics, s'more song lyrics, do wa diddy diddy DUMB diddy do.)

You don't need money, don't take fame
Don't need no credit card to ride this train
It's strong and it's sudden
And it's cruel sometimes
But it might just save your life
That's the power of love
That's the power of love

I had one question this morning.  APATHY. The hell is it?  What causes it?  I surmised, it's from old age. So I asked Google. My broker is EF Google, and Google says "Apathy and Dementia are interrelated" or something like that.

First time you feel it, it might make you sad
Next time you feel it it might make you mad
But you'll be glad baby when you've found
That's the power makes the world go 'round

LA's fine the sun shines most the time, well I'm New York City born and raised, but nowadays I'm lost between two shores. STYMIE HALT! THAT AIN'T IT!  What it is, is, Yankees, Dodgers, World Series (and much like this in life), I don't care anymore...I don't care no more.

And, since we're reciting the ingredients within the recipe of apathy, add to it, I ain't so sure I wanna go anywhere today. The laundry needs done, so what.  I love me some Cascone's lasagna, but, that would involve showering, shaving, GPS'ing, money, and PEOPLE. Red Rover Red Rover, roll Victor back over.......... enter snore sound here.

And it don't take money, don't take fame
Don't need no credit card to ride this train
It's strong and it's sudden
It can be cruel sometimes
But it might just save your life

I am fully, FULLY aware oft times, words, thoughts here are juxtaposed, blurry, "the hell is he trying to say?" and..... Is there a draft in here, he's windy as hell.

They say that all in love is fair
Yeah, but you don't care
But you know what to do
When it gets hold of you
And with a little help from above
You feel the power of love
You feel the power of love
Can you feel it?

It actually kinda did scare me to see the correlation between Apathy and Dementia.  I ain't smart at much, but, I hope I'm smart enough to cipher, we all, from time to time, experience Apathy.  "I don't wanna today, today" days.

I DO care about all the upcoming amendments... the candidates.. homelessness.. .cancer.. the 'how close to home' mental illness has reared it's ugly head - and holy guacamole, the beaten path therein.

Hmm...

It don't take money and it don't take fame
Don't need no credit card to ride this train
Tougher than diamonds and stronger than steel
You won't feel nothin' till you feel
You feel the power, just the power of love
That's the power, that's the power of love

Victor?  Do you need us to talk you off the ledge?   Dial up 911 or even 988 for you?  No, no, no, no, but........ tyvm!

I truly, thankfully, have a blessed life.  Far from perfect, but, is anyone's life perfect? My thought was.. as I backtracked outta the attic of my brain.... I've got it pretty damn good - but too, admit there are days, times, I get down, "don't wanna today, today", swim laps in the pool of self pity, while MANY in life, must deal with the currents of Ocean waves way, way, stronger, more dangerous than anything I go through.

And then... I think how wise Huey is here.  And I'm reminded of the Golden Rule.  And kindness.  How important a simple 'touch' is, be it via phone calls, texts, a knock on a door, is.  Kindness out and about.  Apathy lives, smiles give (comfort.) Life is damn hard.  Nothing that a little WD40, duct tape, baling wire.. kindness, smiles, pats on the back, compliments, care, concern can't help but overcome.

You feel the power of love
You feel the power of love
Feel the power of love

Prescription for apathy:  the power of love.  Thankfully, I've not had much worldly experience with friends, loved ones that do have combined apathy, dementia - but I would suspect the prescription would be the same (with a heaping helping of 'more of the same' for you, the caregiver.)

The power of love.

Love, Victurd

Good vibrations......

Victor........ yes?

That song is REALLY old....... 

Ahm, like, so am I.

I'm pickin' up good vibrations
Life's giving me excitations (Oom-bop-bop)
I'm pickin' up good vibrations (Good vibrations, bop-bop)
Life's giving me excitations (Excitations, bop-bop)
I'm pickin' up good vibrations (Good vibrations, bop-bop)
Life's giving me excitations (Excitations, bop-bop)
I'm pickin' up good vibrations (Good vibrations, bop-bop)
Life's giving me excitations (Excitations)

Victor, them ain't the words.  It's SHE'S giving me excitations.

Correctomundo.  The BB lyrics DO say "She's giving me excitations" and, uh huh, yesterday that absolutely happened.  I fell madly in love with no less than 12 perty ladies wearing PINK wigs, and PINK tutus.  Don'tya mess with my tutu's.

Victor, the lyrics on that song are "Toot toot".  Ahm, go away whomever you are, as in, I'm pickin' up BAD vibrations.

FIRST ANNUAL "Save the Girls" golf tourney at the joint where I work.  Put on by the aforementioned 12 (or more mebbe) perty in pink ladies from the ladies league.

They welcomed us with donuts.  There were pink balloons EVERYwhere.  A five folding table long display of wunnerful donated goodies up for silent auction bid. 20 four person teams of golfers paid a tad more than a golf game actually costs - and that overflow of funds went to the expressed purpose of the tourney - to raise funds for Liberty Hospital's Breast Cancer Center.

Brilliantly lighting the corner of the room was a 'Christmas tree", silver...  with pink lights... and SCADS of pink, cancer awareness ornaments, magic markered with the names of folks having passed, or, presently fighting the bastard, or, those who rang the bell, put that bastard in it's rear view mirror.

On hand there were survivors (appropriately wearing a ribbon designated 'survivor'), and all along the course, folks sponsored signs to honor loved ones perhaps lost due to the bastard breast cancer.... including one blog writer's beautiful sister, Vanda.  Vanda's daughters and her brother sponsored a hole in her memory.

Happy, trying to overtake, surpass sad.  Dodging sad into the future.

Golf carts were decorated with huge bra's on them.  A clothesline with bra's hanging, goodness gracious, HUGE, HUGE cups - golfers paid an extra buck to attempt to toss a golf ball into the cup. Pink golfball or course.

Four person teams..  Three different 'winning team' possibilities.  Men's division... Women's division...  Mixed division.

The very best part?  No one gave a rat's ass who won.

Fun and fund raising was the deal.  I'm pickin' up good vibrations.  There were even dudes in pink, allover.

I'm pickin' up good vibrations
Life's giving me excitations (Oom-bop-bop)

The Doctor in charge of the Hospital Breast Cancer Center was on hand to express gratitude..... remind... and kickoff the tourney.

I'm pickin' up good vibrations (Good vibrations, bop-bop)

Life's giving me excitations (Excitations, bop-bop)

Little by little, golfers walked around that donation table, sneaking their name, bid onto specific items. "I'm getting that Vinnie Bobblehead...someone just bid ten bucks more, oh yeah? TOP THAT MISTER!."  "I want the Bobby Witt Autographed jersey.."  Geez Louise, it's at $300

I'm pickin' up good vibrations (Good vibrations, bop-bop)
Life's giving me excitations (Excitations, bop-bop)

Golfers golfed, enjoyed the wonderfully perfect Fall day. Birdies led to screams heard across the way.  Pond, woods, uh oh golf shots, led to laughter, self deprication.

I'm pickin' up good vibrations (Good vibrations, bop-bop)

Life's giving me excitations (Excitations)

Clubs put in trunks, folks lined up buffet style to down a hunnerd and fitty donate (thank you Scimeca's Sausage) beef hot dogs, ketchup please.... chili on top (them perty lady golfers in pink again)....

Folks snuck back around the Silent Auction tables..  "Dang, someone outbid me for that (wine basket, earring set, Chief's hat/Tee, Tequila, gorgeous MU plaque, ok, kinda gorgeous KU plaque, and....."Did you see what the Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams - see that one with like their pics on there FIVE times, ALL authenticated autographs?  It's at $800!"

Awards for golf passed out, YAY. Ball drop happened. (In excess of a hunnerd, numbered golf balls - you could purchase for 5 bucks, were stuck in a bucket...  dumped out from a hill above the green... closest pink ball to the hole (or in the hole) won half the money - the rest, to breast cancer. "I WON I WON" some lady hollered.

Much, VERY much graciousness on the Silent Auction. I think the Witt jersey went for $800.  The Mantle/Williams plaque for $1,950, yep, you heard that correctly.

High fives.  Hugs.  Happy happy. Snotnoses happily popped the balloons as cleanup happened. Pretty in pink success.  Folks visited.  Pink ladies high fived everyone.  One old blogger pulled his car into the corner of the lot, put his seat back, started snoring. Spent.  He was spent.  Many spent.

I'm pickin' up good vibrations
Life's giving me excitations (Oom-bop-bop)

“Cancer gave me a reason to be the best version of myself, and that’s what I’ve done. You realize that fear can either cripple you or it can motivate you, and it had been crippling me. And I decided to change it, and let that fear be motivating.” Amy Robach

THANK YOU PERTY IN PINK LADIES!

Love, Victurd

Need.......

(Editor's note.. I went back, as always, and reread before I hit 'send'/publish...and it really makes no sense... sorry... kinda... but too, ain't that life? And, I can just see, sense, Mr. L&L Motors, grabbin' his readers, scootiing up to the edga the chair to type)

Need.......

That's scary ain't it?

I want you
I want you so bad
I want you
I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad

I need coffee, a nap, a few mo' dolla's, air, sun, peace, non confrontation, an aspirin, a job, to clean house, TP (damnit, waddle waddle to the Piggly Wiggly, I forgot it), a vacation, the beach, a haircut, new tires, a hug, music, Baseball Ray, to pluck the hair sticking outta the rounded parta my ears (I needta get ridda that damn new LED light in the bathroom).

I want you
I want you so bad, babe
I want you
I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad

I scream, you scream, we all scream for (ie, need) humor, fun, housing, food, healthcare, clothing, safety, clean water.

I want you
I want you so bad
I want you
I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me

Google (who needs 'em) suggested 'physical, emotional, mental, relational, soul, higher self and spiritual needs. 

She's so

Heavy
Heavy, heavy, heavy

She's so

Heavy
She's so heavy (heavy, heavy, heavy)

Why, why did John keep saying "She's so... heavy, heavy, heavy, heavy... she's so, heavy, she's so heavy, heavy, heavy, heavy."?  Did he have an affinity for a tad larger?  I certainly remember, my own formative years, my boss (when I was like 16).. told me "Get ya' one (a woman I suppose) ya' ain't gotta shake the sheets to find."  Wow Victor, did you just write that?  I was only telling a true story.  I don't think ya needed to... Oh well.  John was simply talking about his fervency for Yoko.

OK, thanks Lucy, that 'xplains it .

I want you
I want you so bad
I want you
I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad

If you haven't detected by now, I don't really know, or have, a point to all this mess.

I find, as I (we?) age..  so do our needs.  Of course, we can't do like we usedta, most stuff..  So, what usedta be "I'm gonna go to the gym, lift weights for awhile, then jog a couple three miles.. .then, go shop for a new pair'a shoes.. grab a quick bite, go dancing with friends."

Is..... now

"Honey?..... have you seen (my readers, my teeth, the remote, the bag'a Fritos?) I'm gonna veg out in the recliner, mebbe close my eyelids for awhile, watch a couple shows.. .then, shop for a new pair'a shoes on Amazon.. nuke a chicken pot pie, then, watch Dancing with the Stars.... by then, I'll needta go to bed."

She's so

Heavy
She's so heavy (heavy, heavy, heavy)

BITE ME!  There's only 642 calories in that pot pie...  and speakin'a pots, Mr. Pot (BEER) Belly. that bag'a Frito's that 'dissappeared'.. you just scarfed down 1,480 calories.  NEED I SAY MORE?

Victor, you're weird.  Thanks, I needed that. Music (I want you) to the ears, which reminds me of LED, and ears also remind me of corn, thus, Fritos.

Some might say "Victurd, too much time on hands.. you NEED a job."

I got one.

Part time.

Bottom line.... (Good gosh Gertie, I thought we'd never arrive here).. seems our needs change as we age.

What usedta be "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction (like, YEAH BABY, mark, set, let's GOOOOOO!)

Is now:

Be for real.  Did you just get here?  I ain't goin no dayum where.  I'm tired and retired, got it?  Get it.

It is my hope, I, Victurd, served well in my role of putting you to sleep this morning.  Sleep is a basic need.

Like.......

Fritos

Golf

Beer

Humor

Naps

Ignoring ringing phones, incoming texts

Old friends (NO, not ignoring them, NEEDING them!)

Sure, these are mine.....  

Enjoy the day... and, doing (or not doing) your needs.

I want you
I want you so bad
I want you
I want you so bad
It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad

I enjoy you being here, truly,

Love, heavy Victurd

He ain't heavy.......

The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where, who knows where
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

In 1917, in Omaha, Nebraska - Father Edward Flanagan, a Catholic priest, founded Boys Town... a home for where troubled or homeless boys could come for assistance.  It's said, in 1941, Father was looking at a magazine, came across a picture of a boy who was carrying a younger boy on this back, and the caption on the picture was "He ain't heavy Mr., he's my brother.".....

… So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We'll get there

'Story' #2 precedes the above, and relates there was a child Father saw in 1921... he wore heavy leg braces... the boys would take turns carrying the child on their backs... In 1938, the movie Boys Town came out, starring Spencer Tracy as Father Flanagan, and Mickey Rooney as one of the boys..- and in a sequel a few years later, when asked, "why, how come you do that?"" they answered with the phrase "He ain't heavy, he's my brother" several times.

The song was written in 1969 by Bobbie Scott and Bob Russell as Russell was dying from lymphoma.   It was originally recorded by Kelly Gordon the same year.... then, it was offered to Joe Cocker (decided not to record it)... and of course, the Hollies - who made it a huge hit. Some feller named Reg was a session musician and sat in on the piano for the recording - making a total of £12... he later went by the stage name Elton John.

… For I know

He would not encumber me
He ain't heavy, he's my brother 

If you were to travel to Omaha to Boys Town, you'd find several commissioned statues of a boy carrying a boy.

… If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another

For me, the basic message is compassion. Humans are amazing.  One could substitute many of the following for ".... he ain't heavy... he's my _______" husband, wife, child, parent, grandparent, brother, sister, neighbor, good friend, niece, nephew, aunt, uncle.  Examples, beautifully, abound across the land... this State, that County, the next town, neighborhood over, our block...... perhaps even, our home.

… It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share?

… And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

Life, in and of itself, is like juggling three hacky sacks... difficult.  We frequently drop one, lose one, get one dirty... message, it's dayum difficult.  THEN, ya toss in a medicine ball in addition to the juggling balls of everyday life - and, I just don't see how folks do it, but they do.

… He's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother

We all.......... ALL.... have moods, aches, pains, indigestion, bad hip, leg, back, difficulty hearing, seeing, money woes, "I don't wanna (days)", car problems, job worries, some friends, loved ones that, perhaps in the past, have let us down.

Nonetheless... the amazing creatures in our land juggle those three balls... accept (without complaint) the medicine ball thrown in....... and go about the day silently, remarkably.

Cheers to all who wear the t-shirt of 'he ain't heavy, he's my brother'... as well as to those who are the brother, the one in need.

Love, Victurd

HEY? WHA' HAPPENED?

Change, that's what.

That's life.  Scram Frank, this is my blog.

Change:  your oil..... furnace filters.... clocks, soon, Sunday, November 3rd, Spring Forward, Fall back...... no forgetty the batteries on your smoke detectors. (Clock in your car, no touchy, it will finally be correct again.)

24 days to pay dayum close attention to all the "My name is Slim Shady.".. no.. that ain't it... well... kinda sorta..   "My name is (enter political hopeful whose mudslinging ad just ended) and I approve this message."  24 days to watch, listen, mebbe change your mind.  HA

Tadpoles. Stock market.  'I JUST bought you new shoes four months ago!" said by most every parent of a snotnose a growin.  "I JUST bought you new shoes 2 days ago!"  Ferdinand Marcos.

Nursery. Crib. "Big Boy (or Girl) bed." Shared, mebbe.  Dorm.  Apartment. Duplex. Small house.  Lucky ones, 4BR house. Old ones, gimme a ranch please, two BR's is fine just in case whatshisname comes back again. Senior housing, Assisted care. OK OK VICTOR, we knew the rest, tyvm."

"True life is lived when tiny changes occur."  Leo Tolstoy

OK, you can come in the sandbox with me, but keep ur grubby hands off my shovel.  Oh OK, we'll take turns.

Jack and Diane diddy. They're 13, classmates. Each, dropped off on Friday night at the AMC bigscreen, he, with enough dough for two medium popcorns , 2 sodas, she, funds for two tickets.  Somewhere between previews, start of movie..  the denouement (end of movie.. I know, I ain't neva' heard of it before, I was gonna use climax, but that sounded kinda perverted so I Googled 'whadda ya call the enda the movie?".)  Anyways, Jack smooched Diane.  Coulda been the other way around. OMG. Mr.Tolstoy, nail on head.  Life, as we know it, changed, ne'er the same.

Music damnit Victor, music.  OK OK.

ABCDEFG..... Head and Shoulders knees and toes knees and toes.  Ohhhhhhh, who lives in a pineapple under the sea.....  On a sunset hill of glory (or whatever your cruddy HS alma mater is//was)...   The times they are'a changin'.. right Bob?   Turn Turn Turn (to everything there is a season.)_ 

Change of heart.. chunk'a change..  Ask Sherwin-Williams..   A leopard can't change it's spots, but wow, a side of (enter name here) we ain't seen before.  Change channel..  Change jobs, addy's, cars, hairstyle, hair color, clothes, undies, sheets, the arrangement of furniture. DAMNIT Hazel, I just tripped over the ottoman.

Change up. Baseball Ray, but now it's football (at least here, our city, your team still going, kudos.).  Not futbol, that's anudder sport.

Change colleges:  I got a hangnail. Coach left.  NIL not enough.  This offense ain't for me. Dad said I should be playing more.  They've got cooler uni's.  Too close to home.  Too far from home. I wanna play D1. I wanna dominate, going to D2. 

Loose change, chump change, small change, make change, shortchanged, I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today. ($.29, millions sold at McDonalds, or so the sign said. Victor, get with the program, they stopped doing that when you were fitteen.)

'Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change."  Wayne W. Dyer

I really reallly like that one.  I also have really enjoyed aging.  Mostly. Blessed might be a better word.  I cringe every time I learn of someone that wasn't afforded as much time as I.  Not fair.

Aging changes you to not get your dander up about so much....  but too, on the other hand, we are (muchly) set in our ways, beliefs, dig heels in.  Aging allows us to think before we act.  Interview ourselves, so to speak, about how we feel, what we should say, if anything.

Aging brings smiles easier.  Little ones, yes, beloved snotnoses, are even more adoring, of course, especially them there ones with our blood line.

Aging gives us a broadened focus on time.  TikTok.  No, that ain't it. I mean, tick tock.

Evolution, revolution, gun control, sound of soul
Shooting rockets to the moon, kids growing up too soon
Politicians say more taxes will solve everything

And the band played on

So, round and around and around we go
Where the world's headed, nobody knows

Stop the music!  33, 45, 78, reel to reel, casette, 8 track, CD, bluetooth..  Spotify, YouTube, Shazam - what was that?

Life is all about change, I'm Sirius.

It's Pandora ('s box)... And, a Treasure chest, all in one.

And the band played on.

I could listen to that Temptation guy's bass voice all day long,  But too, gimme a little Tracy Chapman alto, Pavarotti tenor... much... even them gloom, despair and agony on me (change) guys.

There's a hole in my bucket dear Liza.. dear Lisa....

Then get your butt up and fix it dear Henry dear Henry.  It ain't gonna fix (change) itself.

HONEY?  Junior's gotta smelly diaper...   it's your turn.

Premie... newborn.. size 1.. size 2... pullups for swimming in there somewhere...  Size 6...  Size 7.  Looky mommy!  I peed in the toilet!

Depends.

Change.  Life Depends on it.

Love, Victurd