Light hearted

Some of my neighbors really go overboard decorating their houses for the season--any season. Already two of them have charming Halloween decorations up, and it's not even October. I envy people who go to so much trouble and expense to celebrate these events. Clearly they are light hearted, joyful folks who enjoy every occasion to the max. I wish I were more like that.

Halloween was the holiday Mr Charm liked best, involving as it did candy and little kids, both of which he enjoyed. But dressing up or carving a pumpkin--certainly not.

I looked forward to Christmas when I first got married and wanted to decorate something---- but Mr Charm would have none of it. He loathed Christmas so intensely that the Grinch could have profited by taking his tutorial on the subject. He hated Christmas trees, lights, decorations, angels, Christmas carols on the radio, and all the rest of the collateral damage. Since Christmas is ubiquitous everywhere from Halloween on--stores decorated, feeble-minded songs about Mommy kissing Santa Claus, this was the time of year he hated more. He is the only person I know who longed for the bleak days of January.

Military ceremony

We had a military ceremony at Mr Charm's interment. I felt like a bit of a fraud when they gave me the flag, because he got more out of the army than they ever got out of him. He trained as a mountain climbing instructor, but was sent to Austria where he was company clerk and everyone was very nice to him, because he had control over who got furloughs and when. He also drank lots of beer and ate lots of cake topped with shlag (whipped cream), causing him to gain 40 lbs.

But the best thing he got out of the army was the GI Bill, which enabled him to go to college. It changed his life. He went to Brooklyn College, a very fine school which was free in those days, good going for a young man who dropped out of high school because he didn't want to read Silas Marner. No, that's not accurate--he refused to read Silas Marner.

At the orthopedist's office

As many of my diehard fans know, Mr Charm has a broken leg for which he is getting rehabbed. To check on his progress, we had an appointment with the orthopedist who inserted unspecified metal parts in his leg.

He made the trip in a wheelchair--he still can't walk any distance. The doctor's waiting room looked like the ante-chamber to the Miracle Department at Lourdes--casts, crutches, splints, bandages and wheelchairs were the order of the day. To make the visit more memorable, the outer office featured a non-accessible door, and the inner office, where the great man and his acolytes dispense wisdom, also has a non-accessible door. These inconvenient doors were each in a tight corner, making them even more challenging for the halt and the lame. The only thing missing was a spiral staircase.

Fortunately, a couple of the able-bodied patients or their companions held the doors for us.

The inner office is decorated with pictures of various bones you might break if so inclined. I made a note to myself to avoid breaking any of them if at all possible.

Mr Charm's leg is coming along nicely.

Half-empty glass

The tragic view of life runs in my husband's family.

Mr Charm has a gloomy world view. Not only is the proverbial glass half empty--it's probably two thirds empty, if the truth were known. And the half that is left is rapidly evaporating. The glass will soon be empty, and probably has a crack in it. And soon civilization as we know it will come to a halt.

I used to attribute his attitude to his obsession with history. He even has a PhD in history, which would give anyone a morbid cast of mind. But, thinking things over, I attribute it to his grandmother, who lived with his family when he was a boy.

Anyone who doesn't think depression is a communicable disease did not know Grandma. At the age of 50, she decided she was too old to go to the movies, and it went downhill from there. Her hobby was sitting all alone in her room, thinking about the days that were dead and gone.

A conversation with Grandma:

Me: Hi, grandma, how are you? I brought you some magazines to read.
Grandma: I can't read magazines anymore, my eyes are too bad. But thanks.
Me: Well, how have you been?
G: I'm an old woman, how should I be? I wish I were in the graveyard with M.
Me: Oh, the baby is crying. I'd better see what she wants. (Rapid exit)

The power of positive thinking

Someone has sent my husband a subscription to a magazine called Positive Thinking (it came with a bill, so it is not a gift). The idea of my husband inhabiting the same universe as Positive Thinking is hilarious to anyone who knows him. You could say he has a Tragic View of Life. Lugubriousness is Him. If a light bulb burns out, he thinks it is the end of electricity as we know it. One drop of rain is enough to rain on his parade. List all the cliches about doom and gloom and woe is me, triple them, and you have his outlook on life. Life's a bitch and then you die more or less sums it up.

I, however, am willing to give Positive Thinking a shot, especially since it is sitting on the coffee table and I have nothing else to read. It is full of helpful hints and cheery advice. One particularly helpful hint:

...[W]alking your dog for 20 minutes five times a week helps you lose more weight than the leading diet plans.



Wow! Sounds good. I am always willing to utilize Positive Thinking to improve my daily life. Unfortunately, I don't have a dog.

Suppose I took a houseplant for a walk? Would that work?