Quarantined Day #1

What's with all the friggin' hoarding?  I can understand that people are freaked out over the coronavirus, but come on, be considerate of one another.  We all have to wipe our asses, right? We all have to eat, right?  And in my case, where I'm a diabetic, I have to test my blood sugar.  And because I have to test my blood sugar, I have to use alcohol swabs. But guess what I can't find anywhere? Okay, I can make do without them. I'll just wash my hands before testing with hot, soapy water. No big deal.  But it irks me that I have to make do without them because people have needlessly stockpiled alcohol swabs and have caused a shortage. Although I guess I'm rather used to that sort of thing because I live in Florida and during hurricane season people lose their mind every year. Try buying a loaf of bread, a battery, a bottle of water, a generator or anything else if a storm is anywhere near Florida.  But as Trumplethinskin, our fearless and quite sagely leader says this too shall pass, but only when it when it gets hot outside, remember? Heat is supposed to kill the virus according to Trump. Just where does he get his info? FOX News? Wait! It is hot! It was 80 degrees here today!  Sigh...a HUGE sigh and I'll be so glad when November passes. Please tell me that HUGE overgrown orange pompous boobette will be living somewhere other than in Washington DC after next January....PLEASE! Oh no! That’s right! He moved his official residence to fucking Florida! He doesn’t live in New York anymore. I’m going to cry. People that’s not funny on any level. So stop laughing! I can hear you snickering over there in the corner. I see you! Mildred sees EVERYTHING!

Now, for the big news of the day. Old Mildred got tested for coronavirus early this morning and while it wasn't on my bucket list of things to do, I did it because I have a 92-year-old mother living under the same roof as I do and well you see, Martha and I got exposed to the nasty "HOAX" Chinese virus somewhere in our travels and the Health Department tracked Martha down to let her know. That was so kind of them to do and that was so snarky of me to say :) Anyway, the nasal swab didn't bother me too much even though it felt like they were probing for lost brain cells from my misspent youth. Martha claimed she cried when they swabbed her and she couldn't see immediately afterwards. They must have hit her G-spot.

So, everyone living under both roofs are officially QUARANTINED until we get our results in 4 or 5 days. It sucks to be us!

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

And NOTHING will ever kill Keith Richards...

My Golden Shower

Like most women of a certain age or those who have given birth, "peeing" at times can be a quite precarious situation to say the least (sneezing, laughing, running and jumping are all on the endangered list.) Over a week ago I woke up in the morning with the overpowering urge to "tinkle,” so I jumped out of my bed and in my bare feet I started to scurry off to use the bathroom. When my bare feet hit the cold floor, I start to dribble a little. No big deal, right? By the time I reached the cold ceramic tiles in the hallway the great flood started to happen. I hurried! I really did! But the more I hurried the faster I dribbled and when I reached the hallway, those damn slippery ceramic dribbled on tiles and the damn gravity took me out in one swift swoop. My feet came out from under me and I tried to grab the door jamb to no avail. All I did was crack my knuckles and bang my elbow. When my ass hit the floor, it made a heavy thud. That thud caused a quick flood like a swift tsunami. Initially, I laid there to assess if I had broken anything and then old Mildred flailed like a beached fish in the hallway trying to get up in a puddle of piss. Unfortunately, I have nothing in the hallway to grab ahold of to help me get up so I had to slither along drenched in urine all the way to the bathroom so I could pull myself up using the vanity in the bathroom. What a mess! I did laugh at myself when I thought about the asshole whoever first coined the phrase "the golden years"... Golden, my ass! The only golden thing about this was the golden shower I got on the floor of my hallway. My youngest adult son says it's time for Depends at bedtime. OMG! Say it isn't so! Say growing older is more dignified and graceful than having to wear diapers at night. Here's your chance to lie to me and blow smoke up my ass. Mildred needs some comforting lies!

Now, for the rest of the story...why is there always the rest of the story with me? This little escapade resulted in something that felt like whiplash and a severely bruised butt from where I fell. Oh, it still hurts to sit down. I know it could have been much worse and I feel thankful I didn't break anything. When I had my X-rays done it made me acutely aware of the high anxiety people are feeling just from looking at their faces. People are worried about this damn pandemic. People need to be reassured. People need to be tested. People need to be treated. We need a vaccine and most of all we need a leader. We need someone who doesn't lie whenever they open their mouth. We need someone who puts the American people first. Tell me how I went from peeing all over myself to the American public needing a leader?  That's a far stretch on connecting the dots, isn't it? lol

FLAGPOLE LICKERS ANONYMOUS

I truly was a Poster Child for birth control when I was a lot younger. My mother tells me that birth control pills came out a few years AFTER I was born. Phew! I think by the look in her eyes when she tells me stuff like that I should interpret it as meaning that if the FDA had been a little speedier on their approval of The Pill old Mildred might not be here today. Imagine that! A world without Mildred!

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am and have always been that person who always does what they're warned not to do just because I can.  Having someone tell me that I can't do something only makes me want to do it. I'm sure there's probably some psychiatric diagnosis to explain that "I'll show you" type of behavior! And to think they claimed I  would eventually grow out of it! ha! I do, however resist the urge to touch something that has a WET PAINT sign on it now. Maybe now that I'm older, I do less things that can be considered questionable, but as a child I was in high gear and in my glory.  Okay, so my glory days lasted a little longer than just my childhood. What can I say? Mildred is a mess and no, I didn't grow out of it...well, not completely anyways, but I act okay most of the time.

For example, when I was younger I wanted to know what it felt like to touch a bare wire and get zapped by electricity.  I can tell you that it really tingles! But it was a hard sell to get anyone else to try it.  Maybe those other kids were just more pragmatic than I was am.  Hey, it wasn't like I touched a high voltage wire.  I cut the cord from an old lamp so that the plug was still attached. Then I exposed the electrical wires so that I could touch them.  After plugging the cord in, I grabbed a hold of the bare wires. Yes, it tingles and that's all I have to say about it. I satisfied my curiosity and never intentionally messed around with electricity again.  My next zap was much more powerful and was done accidentally.  But that's another story for another time.

When I was in elementary school, during the winter it was a rite of passage to stick your tongue on the flagpole.  Sign me up! You see, I was good at doing risky stuff no matter how small and petty it may be considered.  There's an art to flagpole licking and I knew just how long I could put my tongue on the flagpole without having it stick there. Other kids weren't so well versed in the mechanics of flagpole licking in the middle of winter.  I know I must have gotten my tongue stuck a time or two, but if I had, I don't remember the incident. Obviously, it didn't deter me from doing such a stupid stunt again and again.

Now, I think about all the poor teachers who used to have to come out from their warm classroom to get another idiot unstuck. Teachers have to put up with so many shenanigans from young fools.  I actually feel sorry for them and nowadays, I'm sure that the stunts I used to pull would be considered pretty lame.  But back in the day, Mildred was da bomb. If it became a thought and if that thought piqued my interest or brought a smile to my face then the deed was going to be done. I just had to figure it out and they say practice makes perfect!

For those of you who don't live in an area where winter means snow, ice and sub-zero temperatures, sticking your tongue on a flagpole in the dead of winter usually means that your tongue freezes to the metal quickly.  If you're stupid enough to get your tongue frozen to a metal flagpole, trying to pull it free is definitely the wrong thing to do. I've seen kids pull flesh off their tongue trying to free themselves. I can understand freaking out once you realize your tongue is stuck, but in any risky situation, you have to go in with a back-up plan. You know, just in case things don't go as planned.  Every kid knew that a teacher would eventually come with a cup of warm water to free them, but most would panic before the teacher got there. And you know what panic in any situation means. It usually means someone is going to get hurt and that someone usually is you if you don't wait for the teacher.  Duh! Keeping your wits about you and not panicking when placed in any type of jeopardy is a difficult thing to do, but if you have the balls to do something risky, you have to be willing to pay the consequences if  all doesn't go as planned. To all those kids who got frozen to the flagpole and ended up leaving a little something behind...it sucks to be you!

My oldest brother once told me I'm a selfless person. Who me? Damn it! I can't have people running around making wild accusations like that about me! After all I have a certain reputation to uphold. He claimed I was the type of person who would run into a burning building to save someone without thinking of my own safety. When he told me that I thought he was crazy. I guess we rarely see ourselves as others see us. I think he might have overstated my selflessness a bit, but I was a firefighter for a period of time so maybe he's right after all, but that's another story for another time. I think maybe he was reading my willingness to do something heroic as being selfless whereas I would see it as part to my overall risk-taking behavior. The final result may be seen as selfless, but the motivation for the action was more deeply rooted. I've always liked the feeling of being on the edge with one foot dangling into the abyss. For the longest time after I was no longer on the fire department, any time I heard the siren from a fire truck, it would trigger an adrenaline rush. That was the weirdest feeling to have adrenaline surging through me and have no outlet for it. Like a Dalmatian dog you see in cartoons running after the fire truck, that's what I wanted to do, but I was afraid if I ran after it, I'd also start chasing garbage trucks, barking at the mailman and peeing on fire hydrants, too.

I Changed My Mind

I must be going through something, but I'm too old to be having a mid-life crisis. I'm usually not quite this fickle and disjointed, but after careful consideration I've decided to scrap that last project. In fact, I think I need to put many things on hold. Whatever this is, it just doesn't feel right anymore to ramble on about myself like a silly little trollop. Oh well!

AND NOW FOR THE REST OF THE STORY

Ha! Wasn't that what Paul Harvey would famously say as he would put his unique twist on a story? My unique twist goes something like this...

So you read about my middle name debacle. No big deal, right? It could be worse. They could have named me after my paternal grandmother, Asenath Hedeen. How's that for a name? My maternal grandmother was Marjorie Avis. A little better, but I guess in the grand scheme of things Karen isn't too bad. I'll keep it even though every Karen I know seems to belong to a very special group of damaged individuals. We rock! If we ever rise up and unite, you better watch out! And now the name Karen has a huge stigma attached to it. We're all are depicted as obnoxious, angry, entitled, and often racist white women who uses our privilege to get our way.  Another suggestion is that it comes from a 2005 bit by Dane Cook called “The Friend Nobody Likes.”

Fast forward 25 or so years: I've always heard paybacks are hell and revenge is always sweeter when served cold, so how much colder can it be to name my dog after my mother. Oh yes I did! What makes it a beautiful thing is that I was an adult and she couldn't torture me. Hooray! lol My mother hates her middle name. You see, her mother (my sweet, sweet Nana) stuck her with her mother's first name as a middle name. God, I love it! She just about cringes whenever she has to give her middle name to anyone. Personally, I don't think it's that bad, but who am I to judge middle names? Remember I don't have one!

When my daughter was just a little girl we got a lovely German Shepherd and we named her Montie.  I think my mother's hair actually used to stand on end whenever I would go to visit and when it came time to call for Montie to come inside from the fenced-in backyard. I'd take great pleasure hollering out that glorious name. Say it loud and say it proud! Mother, are you listening?

Come on, M-O-N-T-I-E. It's time to go home. Montie's such a good girl. Here's a treat from Grandma.

 

Meet Queen Ovaltine

When my mother was pregnant with me she did something quite stupid.  She let my brothers pick out my name.  Since my brothers didn't want any stinking baby girls in their house, they only picked out one name for their new baby brother.  The consensus was that the newest member to their band of brothers would take HIS rightful place amongst them with the name of Jimmy.  When I arrived that Labor Day many moons ago, much to their surprise and major disappointment, I was that stinking baby girl they didn't want!  This created quite the dilemma of coming up with a name to put on my birth certificate. No, "Shithead" wasn't in the book of baby names that year or else I'm sure that would have been my name. 

Why my mother didn't have my brothers pick out two names (just in case) really baffles me. Why she didn't encourage them to be more receptive to the possibility of having a sister is ludicrous. Why she didn't just name me Jimmy anyways or maybe something close to Jimmy like Jamie to ease the sting my brothers felt has always puzzled me.  It was almost like they were set up to resent me right from the start. My mother even bought into the whole idea of me being a boy by not having a secret back-up name picked out for me if I was a girl.  WTF?  Welcome to the family, you stinking baby girl with no name! You little unwelcome shithead!

When my mother started having children, she claimed if she ever had the little girl she claimed she wanted so much she would name her Debbie.  Is my name Debbie? NO!  The reason I wasn't given that name is because my aunt had a girl a year or so before I arrived and named her Debbie.  Since the RULEBOOK clearly states that there can only be one Debbie per family, it was back to the drawing board when it came time to name me.  I guess that RULEBOOK didn't include chapters covering things like choosing a back-up name or selecting a middle name either.  I hope those chapters are included now so little shitheads like me aren't stuck with lame names (Moon Unit comes to mind) and no middle names.

Where my mother came up with the name Karen has always been a mystery to me. She doesn't even know. Was it one of the "hot" females names that year? Nope! Was it a family name? Nope! Was I named after a family friend? Nope! I guess they just tossed some names in a hat and picked one and forgot to pick a second one for a middle name. I guess picking the name Karen was such a grueling task that no one could come up with or even suggest a possible middle name to go with it.  I can almost picture how the whole thing happened. Throughout my life I have gone through the list of female names many times and have found a handful of names that would have fit nicely with Karen.  Each time I find one that "fits," it makes that old nagging feeling of being unimportant rear its ugly head and makes me wonder why my own family couldn't have picked a sweet little name for their new bundle of joy new little shithead. 

One of the many reasons I grew up feeling like a such a freak was due to my lack of having a middle name.  I guess it may seem trivial to most people, but most people have a middle name.  Most people are designed to fit in right from the get go and were not given an instant conversation piece.  Whenever asked what my middle name is, I always get that "Yeah, right!" look when I tell people I don't have one.  Most people immediately think I'm lying to cover up the fact that I got stuck with some horrendous name like Gertrude or Bertha (my apologies to all the Gertrude's and Bertha's in the world, but your name sucks in my humble opinion).  Maybe I'm just jealous because I don't have a middle name. When left to my own devices (which is a dangerous thing to do), I gave myself my own unique middle name.  My story of having a mother who craved Ovaltine while she was pregnant with me is a much nicer one to tell people than describing how braindead my family can be at times.  So there you have it...I named myself.  Bing! Bang! Boom!

Now to add insult to injury, I always thought it sucked being born on September 5th. The year I was born (the wheel still hadn't been invented), September 5th fell on Labor Day (the first Monday of September). The main reason I felt as I did about my birthday was because many times my birthday fell on the first day of school.  For a child, that seemed like a fate worse than death. After becoming a parent, the first day of school seemed like a blessing! During those years when my birthday fell on the first day of school, I always felt like my birthday was the secondary event of the day almost like an afterthought.  I guess that was due to all the chaos the first day of school brings to any household.  My parents had 4 children to get ready for school and send on our way out the door and into the caring tutelage of our new brain bruisers, the teachers.

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.
-AUTHOR UNKNOWN-

LAST BORN TRAITS:
Risk takers
Idealists
Good sense of humor
Hard working
Attention seeking
Secretive
Sensitive

MISCELLANEOUS FACTS:
Famous last born children: Howard Stern, Jay Leno, Ralph Nadar, Bill Gates and Danny DeVito
Tend to go against the norm
Make the biggest stirs in life
Know no boundaries

QUEEN OVALTINE aka MILDRED RATCHED/RED KITTEN FACTS:
My youngest son was born on Labor Day also and the doctor who delivered him was born on Labor Day. We were all 25 years apart.

My great grandfather and I shared the same birthday and I grew up to share the same profession. My grandmother died on my 9th birthday.

Recently I looked up what famous people were also born on my birthday or I on theirs:
Freddie Mercury, Jack Daniel, Jesse James and Raquel Welsh. 

MEN ARE FROM MARS WOMEN ARE FROM VENUS

Recently a big, burly, beer-drinkin' redneck dude was talking to me about having a just a lil fight with his lil lady. When I asked him to define "lil fight" he gave me a blank look like I was an idiot for not knowing what he meant. God, I love it when a man does that! I said, "Okay let me help you help me understand. I want you to select what happened from one of the following:

a. a "disagreement" is a verbal confrontation in which the involved parties usually come to some sort of compromise or settlement.

b. an "argument" is a heated verbal assault in which the involved parties usually have to cool down before a resolution can be made.

c. a "fight" is a physical confrontation usually initiated by harsh words in which no compromise, resolution or settlement is made. "

He said, "damn girl, I didn't realize those 3 things meant 3 different things, but I reckon it was the first one. It was just a lil fight."  

I laughed and went on to ask him if he also says his wife "bitches" all the time.  I tried to educate him about selecting the proper use of words, but I didn't make much head way.  I do think he at least thought about what I had to say even though he really didn't understand a word I said because I'm just some old damn Yankee transplant livin' on the Redneck Riviera! Yehaw! Let's get 'er done! 

 

Being from Maine is like being from another planet. I've actually been asked if we have indoor plumbing in Maine. Ayuh! Ever since about 1980! We have to wait until the ground thaws out before we can dig to lay any pipe. Gotta love Maine sarcasm...God, I miss it! Now, I have Martha livin' next door to me I get a dose of it just about every day.

Smile!

Ha! I looked at this picture and it almost made me want to vomit. [lol] Did women really used to smile cheerfully while they ironed? Did the dishes? Mopped the floors? I must admit that the mundane things in life sometimes irk me so much especially when I could think of dozens of other things I'd rather be doing.  I consider housework mundane and bordering on cruel and unusual punishment, but who am I to make such a judgment? 

My dogs dog dislikes detests housework also. I had to correct that statement because I have a Shih Tzu who does not like any type of house work. My other three dogs are just fine. But The Queen believes that life is to be spent in my lap only. Perhaps I was a Shih Tzu in a former life and thus explains why mundane things irks me so... Perhaps I belong on someone's lap being pampered!!!

THE HUMAN RACE

Sometimes the whole human race puzzles me.  For example: Why haven't we treated our planet kinder? Why haven't we treated each other kinder?  In the grand scheme of things, I see no need for war, for poverty, for hunger, for homelessness...Call me an idealist. Call me stupid. I don't care because it irks me to see people including myself be less than they should be and can be with a little time and effort.

MIXED FEELINGS

Check out the mullet!

Last night my daughter, Christina sent me a text message telling me that my ex-husband, Jim wasn't doing well and probably wouldn't live much longer. Her ex step-brother, Josh had texted her to let her know the news and asked her to pass along the information to me with a copy of a short note I had written him years earlier back in the early 1990's. I wasn't too surprised about the news about Jim because he has never taken care of his health even when he was younger.  Of course, I have mixed feelings about the news and will deal with those feelings over time. Ho! Ho! Ho! 'Tis the season...

I have to admit that I was more surprised that Josh had kept that note than I was about the news about his father. When I read the note, I did so with a "red pen" in hand looking for errors. Of course, I found a few. Go figure!  What stuck out most to me was the part I wrote about God. You see, I am NOT a believer, but Josh is so I must have written that part for his benefit. Mildred has a heart after all! Shhhh! Let that be our little secret because I have a reputation to uphold. What brought a smile to my face were the personal touches that only he and I would know what they meant.  I have to admit the note brought a tear or two to my rather dry eyes.

I vaguely remember writing the note, but the circumstances aren't crystal clear. Old age is a bitch! Obviously, it must have been one of the times when Jim and I parted ways. Josh had finished high school and had started college.  I do feel proud of him because he went on to finish college and he became a doctor. His brother, Jason is also a doctor and his sister, Jamie works in the medical field as well.  I never had a close relationship with Jason and Jamie because they lived in another state with their mother and we only saw them periodically. Josh lived with us. And for the record...Josh was a handful and then some! I always thought he just needed someone to believe in him no matter what and I always tried to be that person.

When he finished college, he came and found me to let me know he had graduated and had been accepted into medical school and would be starting soon. The rest is history...

It's been a long time since I've heard from him and I know the circumstances suck, but I'm glad to know I still am in his thoughts occasionally.

A Good Idea?

Remember when people used to talk to each other? While technology may be a wonderful thing, it has created a generation of people who either do not want to or can't interact with each other because they simply don't know how. I don't know how many times I've been out in public and have witnessed groups of young people sitting together texting away on their phones instead of engaging each other in conversation and laughing out loud instead of texting "lol". What have we become? Do we no longer need human contact? Do we no longer need to gaze into each other's eyes?

When my children were young occasionally we would have no television/ computer/videogame days and yes, at first it caused great wailing and gnashing of teeth, but it didn't take long for the family to adjust to those days of intimate bonding. We played board games. We played cards. We played outside. We went to the beach. We found other things to do, but more importantly whatever we decided to do we did it TOGETHER.

My daughter, as an adult made a decision not to ever get cable or satellite television . When my grandson was young the first thing he would do whenever he would come for a visit was to find the cartoon network. What a treat that was for him. Yes, he played video games and had a computer, but he didn't spend countless hours watching television. In fact, in later years when I would mention some television show on TV that I thought he might like a lot of times he truly didn't know the show. I have to admit it was almost refreshing, but I always would whisper in his ear and tell him he needed to "binge" a season or two of shows like Breaking Bad or Sons of Anarchy just so when his friends at school would talk about shows they were watching, he'd be in the loop. I was that "bad" Nana!  He even developed a liking for That 70's Show. I thought that was a riot because he did that on his own.

BTW...Happy 21st Birthday, Nathan! I love you!

A few years ago I questioned him about why he's not on Facebook and he's just not interested in it. Hallelujah! I have to say I'm proud of him because I think it's a wise decision on his part. I think Facebook has become ultra intrusive in so many people's private data and has also become a vehicle for propaganda to unwittingly to get spread around by uninformed "nitwits."  My apologies if you're one of those nitwits...If you are, FACT CHECK FIRST, before you share and spread lies with the rest of Facebook. Thanks!

Now on to the good stuff...
If this doesn't warm the cockles of your heart, nothing will! [lol]



MARENGO, Iowa (KCRG/Gray News) - ‘No phone, new friends Fridays’ is a new tradition at Iowa Valley Junior-Senior High School in Marengo. Principal Janet Behrens started it this year.

[Students take part in No phone, new friends Friday]

She said she noticed students at the school with their heads down, looking at their phones. Instead, she wanted them to look at each other, and learn face-to-face communication skills.

Students like junior Page Weick say they're seeing a difference. “Everybody enjoys it,” Weick said.

Students get a colored card when they walk in the cafeteria that tells them at which table to sit. The tables also have conversation starters.

“I think it's fun, I like doing it,” said Sahara Kanke, a freshman.

It's also a no-phone zone.

“Every little thing helps in this day and age with all of the things that you have going on, all the pressures that they have with social media. It's nice to see them take a break from all that,” Behrens said.

It took students a couple of weeks to get used to the idea.

“When it first started, I didn't want to do it at all,” Kanke explained.

“At the all-school assembly on the first day of school, there was a little bit of like, ‘No way, she's not really going to do that,'” Behrens said.

“Conversation is one of the most human, and humanizing things that we can do,” said Nathan Hodges, who teaches communication studies at Coe College.

He has an assignment where students go on a 24-hour tech detox, showing the importance of human connection in a digital age.

“You learn how to listen to people. You learn how to empathize with them,” he said.

Students said they think a phone-free lunch hour, spent talking with new friends, is helping their school to become a kinder place.

“People are more nice to each other now because they got to know each other at lunch,” Kanke said.

“I think people have a lot more respect for others,” Weick said.

Copyright 2019 KCRG via Gray Media Group, Inc. All rights reserved.


Read the original version of this article at kcrg.com.

A WILD RIDE AT THE FAIR

One of the highlights of summer as a child was when the fair would come to town. I thought it was wonderful when I was old enough to go in a group of friends without adult supervision. Of course this meant that shenanigans were going to take place. Since my father was a firefighter my family always got free passes into the fair, but from the time I started going without adult supervision it was a rite of passage to go under the fence to get into the fair. Kids will be kids and Mildred will definitely be Mildred. That's just the way it is and always will be.

The Bangor State Fair I'm sure wasn't any different than any other state fair of that era or so I thought. There were were rides, games, food and tucked at the back of the fair were the plethora of side shows. The rides made me hurl because I have motion sickness so unless I was coerced heavily and shamed into it by my friends to go on them I avoided the rides like they were the Bubonic plague. For me, it was the side shows that always fascinated me. The weirder the better I liked them! The barkers stood outside tempting people to come inside to see the oddities or to see the half naked dancing women. Of course, there was always a line of men waiting to see those luscious dancing women. We never thought they were very luscious, but what did we know? That didn't interest us! We always just sashayed by as if we were the real hot stuff and then we'd giggle like only little girls could do.

I'd been away for a few years at drug rehab, but when I was 18 I returned home for a visit. That was when I got an eye opening experience regarding the Bangor State Fair. My brother, Brian and his significant other, Rose asked me if I wanted to join them at the fair one evening. I had been feeling rather low and needed to get out so I decided to go with them. Other than maybe running into someone I hadn't seen in years, I couldn't think of anything that could be new about the fair, but since I didn't have anything else to do I accepted their invitation. So off we went to the fair... It all seemed too familiar. The smells. The lights. The sounds. Even the faces of the people I didn't know. We walked around and I have to admit I was disappointed I didn't run into anyone I knew...not one person!

Then we came to the sideshows. The men were outside doing their usual spiel, but then one caught our attention. He was hollering something about his show being for brave men and liberated women. He looked at my brother and said that he'd let Rose and me in for free if Brian paid for his own admission. Before we knew it we were inside the huge tent standing before a stage along with maybe 30 or so other people. As I slowly looked around, I discovered Rose and I were the only women in there. As the music started, a scantily dressed dancer came out on stage and with in less than a minute she was completely naked. My mouth dropped open! Can she do that? Is that legal?

I was at the Bangor State Fair I told myself as I looked around the dimly lit tent to make sure there wasn't anyone there I knew. I thought the police were going to come busting in at any second. As the dancer made her way around the stage she crouched down into a crab walk and started offering the people along the perimeter of the stage the opportunity to sample her wares (perform oral sex on her). When she got to my brother, she said, "You want some, honey?"

My brother responded as if someone has asked him if he wanted a donut. He told her that he already had some of his own and tilted his head towards Rose. She then made her way towards me and I had this OMG look on my face that gave her my answer as I just put my hand up as sign that I was okay without  "a taste." She just smiled at me and gave me a wink as she made her way around the stage. I'll never forget this older man on the other side on the stage who grabbed ahold of the cheeks of her ass and pulled her to him as he dove into her like he was at a pie eating contest. You could hear him slurping away over the music until "security" broke it up. By that time the song ended and we filed out of the tent. All I kept thinking was now everyone I grew up with will be lined up outside waiting to see me... I wanted to kick my brother because he thought it was hilarious that Rose and I had no idea what happened inside those sideshow tents. Call me naïve, but I guess I never in my wildest dreams ever imagined anything like that actually happened in Bangor Maine. Note to oneself: paybacks are hell!

I heard that the police shut that stuff down finally. I guess they weren't being paid off enough or something. Anyway, all I kept thinking about was all the times as a kid when I used to walk by those sideshows. I wonder if that sort of thing was going on then and the song that was playing that night as she "danced" is burnt into my memory for all time... Now, no matter where I am if I happen to hear that song I think of that "wild ride” at the Bangor State Fair.

I can picture every move that a man could make
Getting lost in her lovin' is your first mistake
Sundown you better take care
If I find you been creepin' 'round my back stairs
Sometimes I think it's a sin
When I feel like I'm winnin' when I'm losin' again

RONNIE

Before anyone gets their underwear in a big wad, I haven't drunk the Kool-Aid! Yes, Ronnie was named
after Ronald Reagan. Ronnie was purchased on the day of President Reagan's death. My step-father and my daughter decided to buy a black Lab puppy and were having trouble agreeing on a name for him so I suggested the name Ronnie. My step-father was a staunch Republican so the name Ronnie was a given. Ronnie passed away yesterday after living a very long and happy life. Please keep my daughter and her family in your thoughts. Ronnie was a part of her family for many, many years and will be missed by all. He was a beautiful black Lab and although as he grew old, he slowed down and like an old person he grew fragile, slow and stubborn, but he always remained that beautiful black Lab puppy that they brought home many years ago in all our hearts. Rest in peace, Ronnie and go be with Grandpa now.

To Those Who Have Proudly Served

Happy