He was a very little man and perhaps a little lonely. He would always stop to chat briefly with our neighborhood "gang" of kids, and to a 4-year-old me, he seemed like a very nice guy. I would find out just how nice when I once repeated to him what my mother had said in an attempt to get me to improve my diet: "My mother says you never grew very tall because you didn't eat your vegetables." The height-challenged man just smiled and nodded and said, "That's right. That's what happened. You should listen to your mother." A nice guy, indeed.
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In preparing for a yard sale, my wife is uncovering all kinds of treasures -- knicknacks, books, LPs, etc. -- that I had forgotten I even owned. I, of course, refuse to part with them.
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I love that Amstel TV ad that begins with a belllowing Dutchman.
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Answer to Tuesday's puzzlement: William Howard Taft is the other president buried at Arlington National Cemetery.
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The handful (fingerful?) of people who read this blog first thing in the morning may notice a few typographical or grammatical errors. Be assured that as the day goes on, these are corrected. Well, most of them anyway.
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Ray Bradbury is an American treasure.
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If the media had covered the buildup to the Iraq war the way they are covering the non-epidemic of swine flu in the United States, the Iraqi landscape might not have become littered with bodies.
