- From Fly Creek
From Fly Creek: Tail over tin cup
It’s taken me weeks to work up gumption to tell you about a spectacular piece of stupidity. The stunt was so dumb that I’m ready to believe that, along with other lost ground, my common sense is eroding, too.
From Fly Creek: Keep this to yourself . . .
First, a public-service announcement: The Clark Center’s Senior Indoor Walking Program has started and will continue through till spring. Anyone older than 55 is eligible to join the group that circles the track above the basketball courts in the sports center. The informalprogram begins at 10 a.m. Monday, Wednesday and Friday. No special attire, though wear soft soles for traction on the carpeting.
People younger than 60 are welcome to read this column, especially ones who have trouble recalling names on short notice. But mostly this column is for the older crowd. For many of us, because of illnessor disability or just from too many birthday parties, dredging up names quickly can be a chronic stress and embarrassment.
From Fly Creek: Sure, I know that guy
A decade ago, “Six Degrees of Separation” was a common party game. It was inspired when actor Kevin Bacon said that he was well tied into Hollywood: he’d worked with most of the pros there—and they’d worked with the ones that he hadn’t.
From Fly Creek: A good sturdy mug
I’ve never told you about falling on top of the doctor. That means I’ve also fallen behind in keeping you posted on Parkinson’s progress. OK, an overdue update: The Progress is, well, progressing. Some days my balance is really good, not even calling for use of a cane.
From Fly Creek: Washing our hands, our spirits
Last Sunday had been overcast all day, and a slow drizzle began to fall around three-thirty. That didn’t bode well for Cooperstown’s 9/11 commemoration, scheduled for 6:30 p.m. that evening at the foot of the lake.
From Fly Creek: Ten years of loss
The date Sept. 11 is as carved into our hearts as is Dec. 7 for those who were alive on that awful day in 1941. On both days our sense of security, of unquestioned invulnerability, was shattered. We were left shaken, changedperhaps forever.
From Fly Creek: ‘We done a good job’
Back on the tractor again. After supper, almost twilight, but enough brightness left to mow our little west field. Already enough hint of evening, though, that the rooster and hens, on the lawn beyond the fence’s wire, are doing their bug-catching close to the chicken yard’s open gate.
From Fly Creek: Selling, Fly Creek style
A loyal Fly Creeker, I always try to tout new hamlet businesses. One has recently popped up, and maybe you’ve already noted it. The Kantor family of Portabello’s, after adding a great new lunch menu, has now spun off a subsidiary.
From Fly Creek: Larger than life
Thirty Christmases ago, Hutzler’s Department Store in Maryland routinely hired a Santa. It was a triumph of typecasting. For when my late, dear friend Albert Fields donned the costume, a metamorphosis took place.
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- From Fly Creek: Tail over tin cup