As I’ve told you several times recently, I just don’t feel good at all. It seems to get a little worse every day.
Now I feel it’s time to stop trying to write these weekly articles for our newspaper. I recently told the Assisted Living Group at NHC that I just couldn’t continue meeting with them once a month and now I’m telling you goodbye because I don’t feel well enough to do you or our paper justice.
To prove my point, I’m scheduled to meet with my cardiologist to discuss having a pacemaker in about two or three weeks. I’ve always heard every cloud has a silver lining and in this case at least I’ll be able to stop having to wear this bunch of elastic straps, sensors and electric cables around my chest and the heavy “Portable Life Vest” with its high voltage “tasers,” transmitter and battery box strapped to me night and day. It’s a real bother and aggravation no matter where you want to go or what you want to do.
I have only about two nights each week I get to sleep all night without this thing alarming, making me get out of bed to check it and push the reset button to clear the alarm. It ain’t fun having to wear this contraption.
Anyway, I feel the exact same way about me stopping these articles as I did with our good old group up at NHC. So maybe every month or so I’ll still be able to get something printed if the News-Herald agrees and I’ll be able to come up with an article, reckon? That way I won’t be cut off completely — just kind of cut back, OK? So after 454 articles over the past 10 years, I’m gonna have to slow down a little bit, but I ain’t planning just yet on completely quitting.
From all this cold weather we’ve had, I shouldn’t be writing anymore about how cold it used to be back in them days and wondering why we ain’t having weather like that anymore. Talk about having to “eat your words” seems to fit me right now.
I got a picture in the mail yesterday from Walter Hines. He had read in the paper about “Sneeze” Hines, his uncle, riding his sled under the 18-wheeler. It was the first time he’d heard about that narrow escape. He responded with a very nice letter to me and a picture taken from the front porch of his grandparent’s house at the corner of B Street and 3rd Avenue, which shows the blocking off of B Street during a big snow event.
He even wrote more about “delivering groceries to the ladies down on West Broadway,” and he wrote my mama was always cooking something that smelled good — along with Ms. Kerly, Ms. Leeper, Ms. Goodwin and many others.
“They always had some goodies to offer us,” he said. “It was a fun time.” He seems to have enjoyed those days right along with all the rest of us. My son and Walter graduated high school in the same class, and Sam said Walter was a “first-class” boy.
I certainly have enjoyed writing these articles and I feel I’ve had a little success in achieving my goal of giving you a reason to remember those good old days and for you to maybe even pass them along to your kids and grandchildren. You know, I feel they really want to know about those days back then, so please don’t give up on telling our young’uns all you can remember, OK?
I’ll see you a little later with next time being on down the road.